Paranoid? You Should Be
by koolgirl1120
Summary: Blaine Anderson is a spy. When Rachel is murdered while living in NY with Kurt and Finn, Blaine and Kurt meet and they question everything they've ever known, including each other. They inexplicably fall in love as Blaine tries to untangle the complicated case of a seemingly innocent girl. Can a boy with anger problems who grew up learning how to lie, learn to love? Hiatus :(
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. Hi everyone! Most of you probably know me from my other fic ****_Bored._**** As promised, here is the spy story I am in the midst of writing. I will try updating weekly, as well as my other story Gleeful travels, but they may not always be possible, I'm sorry to say... so here's the summary**:

**Blaine Anderson is a secret international spy trained to be without emotions, yet his sexuality refuses to let him forget. His anger management problems cause infighting amongst his team members and he feels alone in the world - until he meets Kurt Hummel, the best friend of the girl who was murdered because of his enemy. Then, everything changes and emotions are the only thing that will get him through life with the one he loves. Kurt Hummel is just another struggling gay teen in New York City who's trying to make a life on Broadway with his best friend Rachel Berry and his step-brother Finn. But when Rachel is mysteriously killed, Kurt's life turns upside down and he doesn't know if he can handle it all. The only good thing to possibly come of this is that he meets the handsome and intriguing Blaine Anderson, the person in charge of Rachel's case. As they grow closer, Kurt can't help but think what he's gotten himself into, an innocent relationship with a police officer, or a dangerous involvement in the war between good and evil.**

**So... ya like? If so, then read on and enjoy the first chapter of Paranoid? :D I appreciate reviews!**

**Disclaimer - I own nothing, not even Glee.**

Blaine Anderson was a secret international spy. He worked for the organization that was so top secret, he didn't even know the name of it himself. He'd been trying to find out for ages, but nothing had ever worked and he was forced to trust them. They were his family after all. He had been raised to be a spy after being discovered in a trash can on a street when he was just a baby. Taking him in as a potential asset, the spies raised him as their own with tough love and strict rules. The person he was closest to was probably his supervisor, Wes Montgomery, but they weren't exactly on good terms at the moment considering Blaine broke his gavel last they met.

The sounds of bullets being fired pierced the air and Blaine somersaulted forwards to duck under the table across the hall. The bullets whipped past only inches from where he had just been hiding. His heart beat rapidly but he was a master at controlling his breathing. He clutched his gun so tightly his knuckles turned a deathly white and his pupils had dilated. His index finger hovered over the trigger as men's cries were heard from down the hall as more blastings blared throughout the office building.

The computer with all the desired top secret files lay across the rather large room, undamaged and loading. He had been downloading the classified information when he heard gunfire and bolted for cover. The guns stopped firing. He listened hard, closing his eyes to become in tune with his surroundings, but it had the opposite effect as he fell backwards, the desk no longer there to lean against. He fell on his back with a gentle thud and stared up at a man holding him at gunpoint with his left hand and holding the desk with the other.

If his right hand is stronger, then he's at a disadvantage with his aim. Blaine thought, unless he's ambidextrous, but even then one hand is still more dominant. He kicked the gun out of the man's hand as the desk came tumbling down towards him with lightning speed, but he was faster. At the age of seventeen he was active and mobile and in fantastic shape. A few drops of sweat trickled down his forehead as he rolled a couple meters away and leaped to his feet like they always do in movies. He looked back to where he last saw the enemy but there was no one there. Not one to be caught off guard, Blaine whipped around then looked up just as the man aimed and fired while hanging upside down from the rafters. The bullet landed in the boy's ankle and he bit back a cry of pain as he leaped away from the spot where the opponent had chosen to fall. Having nowhere to run, Blaine took a good look at the man's face.

He was approximately six feet tall with the beginnings of a dark brown beard and eyes so dark they were almost black. The dimmed lighting in the room didn't allow much colour to be seen and for all Blaine knew, the man's eyes were coal black to match his stretchy pants and knit sweater. The bulk of his chest meant he was wearing a bullet vest and his hood was pulled up all the way. His hands were calloused, as if he played guitar and the man's feet appeared to be about size ten. He wore Nike running shoes with blue accents and the hair on the back of his hands was dark brown, but in better lighting it could be anything. His eyebrows were thin and rounded and the man had crow's feet beside his eyes. His skin was a dark olive and his build was muscular and healthy. He had experienced hands and they seemed to be his greatest strength. Blaine took note of the beginnings of a dark blue tattoo swirling around the man's ring finger instead of a real ring and didn't let himself wonder why. He appeared to be in his early forties with plump cheeks and unmistakable dimples. His nails were cut down to its absolute shortest and were filled with grime.

Blaine took all of this in within the one second he had before jumping away from the man forever and through the window out of the five hundred foot tall skyscraper. His shoulder connected with the glass and he heard the sickening shatter as the window collapsed around him. He heard gunfire but felt no pain anywhere but his shoulder and ankle. His feet left the floor and he opened his eyes to the long fall that lay ahead of him. He would not let his enemy have the satisfaction of seeing him afraid so he bit back another scream. He had done this so many times to date that his tongue had almost been severed off by his own teeth and he made a new habit out of biting his gums instead. He felt the wind whip past him and no hair flew into his face because it was so perfectly gelled that it was basically a rock. The air felt cool against his skin and his blood began to seep through his pants as it trickle upwards as he fell faster than the liquid, being heavier and all.

The traffic and cars below him rushed to meet his body faster than he had anticipated and he heard one last gunshot before everything went black. When he took off his virtual training helmet he sighed, not in relief, but in failure. He had yet to pass his virtual experience test to become a full spy. Should he pass before his eighteenth birthday, he would be the first ever full-fledged under-aged spy in the business.

In frustration, he threw the helmet with all his might at the far wall, but a robot arm shot out from twenty feet away and caught it expertly in its claw. It reeled it back to the owner of the arm, a boy about Blaine's age who had been orphaned just like him and sent to an adoption center. His name was David and he had dark skin and black hair so short you had to squint to see it. When it was quickly discovered that he was a genius, the spy organization had quickly taken him under their wing and trained him to be a technical whiz.

The robotic arm was not prosthetic, but rather a gadget the boy had been working on. He smiled smugly as he took the helmet in his hands and inspected it for cracks. Satisfied that it was still in mint condition, he turned around to face Blaine.

"Please don't break the very complicated gadgets I work so very hard on." He said with a corner of his mouth turned up. He walked over to a shelf to place the helmet carefully atop it and plugged it in to charge. He turned back to the stage that Blaine hadn't moved from and his smile dropped.

"Anderson?" He called cautiously and observed the boy further. His muscles were tense and his fists clenched. He gritted his teeth and his eyes were closed. His breaths were regular and his chest heaved at normal speed, but he was shaking from anger. His eyes were closed and he seemed rooted to the spot. He mumbled something along the lines of an apology and stormed off, slamming the door to the lab closed behind him. David sighed and went back to work on creating a cell phone with the most high tech abilities anyone had ever seen, with his precise hands and fingers.

Blaine stomped down the hallway in a fit of rage. He glared at the white tiles and bare walls wishing they were all in ruins. His muscles were so tense that he walked like a robot in a way that was almost comical, had it not been so terrifying. He was furious with himself. He had tried and failed to defeat that level of the virtual training program over fifty times and he had barely gotten any farther than he had the last time, yet he had been so close. He had been on missions outside of the building several times, usually only for investigation purposes and not so much confrontation reasons, but nothing had been as severe as the digital world Artie had created. He needed to pass it in order to be full-fledged spy and he was itching to work in the field. It had been his main goal in life as far back as he could remember and he had yet to accomplish such a feat.

He growled and slammed the door to his room so hard it made a hole in the wall with its knob. He didn't care, he had just patched up the last one and figured he shouldn't bother fixing it when he was only going to prolong the inevitable. He had issues with his temper and he had yet to find anything very effective that would calm him down, so he seethed and skipped his boxing gloves and just punched the dummy in his room. He punched and punched and punched and the dummy fought back lazily, letting him win. He got frustrated at how easy it was and began to hit harder, making his knuckles bleed with the effort and sweat dripped down his face as he grunted and kicked and screamed his emotions at his target. Eventually, all the steam had left him and he sunk to the floor, hands covered in blood and body coated in sweat. He was panting and his arms burned from over using his muscles.

Mustering up some strength, he stood up without the help of his hands and made his way to the bathroom to shower. The water was ice cold and was an immediate contrast to his current body temperature. His body shivered involuntarily and he let the water soak him and cool him. He took several minutes to rinse the gel from his hair and let his curls loose. He frowned in the mirror at his crazy and uncontrollable locks and immediately covered them in stark white bubbles of shampoo. He closed his eyes and began to hum to himself, singing songs that were slow and calming but not sad so as to calm himself down.

Once he was thoroughly cleaned and rinsed, he turned off the water and stepped out while wrapping a brown towel around his waist as he entered his room and threw on whatever clothes were clean. His entire wardrobe was black so everything looked the same to him. He ended up with black jeans, converse, a wool turtleneck, and a bowtie that camouflaged perfectly with his shirt so as not to be seen by his co-workers. He had more bowties than he could count and it was a rather embarrassing secret of his that was an expert at keeping hidden.

He wrapped his hands in gauze and ignored the searing pain he felt the second they made contact with the bandages. His hands were burning again and he clenched them as if to make their painful screams of agony quieter, so that he could think properly. He turned around to examine his bedroom. It did not look like a regular teenage boy's room.

There was a twin bed in the very center of the square room with grey sheets and blankets and pillows. The walls were a boring beige and there was one large rectangular window across the room from his bathroom with no blinds or curtains. The carpet was a dirty white and stained with blood so much so that it looked like a design. The closet was closed and the desk had nothing but stacks and stacks of papers and files sitting on top with one sharpened pencil sitting parallel to them. His dresser was mahagony and about four feet tall with beige handles and the walls were bare. He had no headboard or posters or pictures, there was nothing personal about the room at all. It looked like a hotel suite without someone living in it. The dummy sat at about Blaine's height next to his bed, rattled and ripped and twitching from its beat down. Blaine stuffed it in his closet and sighed. He would never be a normal guy. Even if he wasn't a spy, nothing could change the fact that he was gay - and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He could've lived with being gay in public school, it couldn't have been any worse than where he was at the moment, but alas there was no hope for him and the P.A. speaker that was next to the door on his left crackled.

"Would Blaine Anderson please report to Mr. Montgomery's office, Blaine Anderson." The receptionist of the place spoke in a monotone voice through the microphone with his foreign accent. Blaine sighed again and exited his room to make his way to Wes' office. This should be fun.

He walked stiffly down the hall and decided not to use the elevator and slid down the banister of the stairs to land perfectly on the balls of his feet on each floor five times until he reached ground level and threw open the double doors to the lobby, a cold breeze of air conditioner swept over him and his hands immediately went to his hair but he refrained from actually touching it, not wanting to get his hands covered in gel.

It was too late to go back, he had a clear view of Wes sitting in his office through the window, glaring pointedly at him with his arms crossed. Blaine held back a sigh and crossed the rather large room as the last remnants of sunlight streamed in through the front entrance spinning doors made of glass. He let himself into the office and plopped down on the very uncomfortable plastic chair opposite Wes' desk. They glared at each other for a few minutes until Wes gave in and closed his eyes while rubbing his temples.

"Anderson, you owe me a new gavel."

"Please tell me you didn't call me all the way down here for that."

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean it is not a legitimate reason." Blaine rolled his eyes as the Asian boy, not too many years older than he was, continued as if he hadn't seen, which he obviously had. "I called you down here because I have a mission for you."

"In the field?"

"No, your bedroom."

"Shut up."

"Don't give me that tone Captain Obvious!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I'm your boss! I'm in charge of this entire sector!"

"I'll treat people how I want! Especially you!"

"Oh lucky me." Wes said with sarcasm practically tangible in his voice. They were both standing, having knocked over their chairs in their shouting fest. Wes fixed his tie and cleared his throat, then righted his chair and sat back down in it. Blaine copied the movement with his own chair but his glare didn't let up.

"You were saying something about a mission?"

"I dunno if I wanna tell you anymore. Maybe I should give it to someone less childish." Wes thought aloud with the beginnings of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Blaine rolled his eyes but felt his shoulders relax a bit.

"Just get on with it."

"Fine then, if you insist." Wes ran a hand through his black hair and straightened out a pile of papers on his desk before continuing. "There's been a murder in New York City and we-"

Blaine scoffed. "So? That's not uncommon in New York of all places."

"Would you shut your yap and let me finish?" He asked with a bit of irritation seeping out of his mouth and into the question. Blaine's face hardened, but he nodded.

"Right, anyway, we suspect the murderer to be a member of the band of skanks we've been tracking for months. They've been travelling across the country performing countless crimes and being very very careful with their identities and who they keep in contact with and where they go so as not to create a pattern. They are very good at what they do which is why it has taken so long to catch them."

"Why do you suspect it's them?"

"The victim was the cousin of one of our contacts."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Rachel Hudson."

"The contact?"

"No, that is classified information. She is the victim. Anyway, everything needed for this case can be found in here." Wes opened his filing cabinet and yanked out a fairly large folder so overly stuffed with papers that when he lifted it several of them fluttered to the ground in disarray. Blaine raised an eyebrow but didn't complain. He was going out into the field and he was going to do what he did best: spy.

"Deadline?"

"You have three months." Blaine spluttered and looked up at Wes in shock. His boss simply smirked and sat back down in his chair. "I know it's a long time but the organization has taken into consideration your age and experience and deemed it an appropriate amount of time to complete this case and erase all connections to this organization from Rachel's death." He shrugged and Blaine nodded along, taking in all the information he was being given. "Your mission specifically, is to track down the villain that is guilty for Mrs. Hudson's death and to clean up their mess, make sure the paparazzi don't get involved and that the news story isn't too big. The crime was committed not half an hour ago."

At this, Blaine's eyebrows shot up and Wes shrugged again. "Your sources are alarmingly fast." He noted. Wes simply nodded and Blaine stood to leave but he had his elbow in a firm grasp, forcing him to stay rooted to the spot. Hazel eyes met chocolate and Wes' gaze was stern but caring.

"Be careful." He warned and Blaine simply nodded and waved once before exiting in haste. He was going to the scene of the crime immediately and would look over the notes on the plane ride there. He was looking forward to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N. Hey guys! I'm back! So here's chapter two of Paranoid, and here we get to *spoiler* meet Kurt and some more Warblers, and they are WAY OOC so please don't be mad at me! *end spoiler*. Yay! So, all of my stories are un-beta-ed so if you spot any mistakes, you can PM me and I'll fix 'em, 'kay? I'm currently working on chapter 8 or 9 (i cant remember) of this story so you guys should be getting constant updates weekly. I believe not much else needs to be said...** **besides, Enjoy! :D**

**Disclaimer - I don't own anything except the plot.**

Chapter 2

Kurt Hummel sang the last note of the song and bowed from his place on stage. His smile was a mile wide and he was joined by his fellow cast members as they all gathered on the set to bow properly and in sync. They held hands and took in the deafening applause as they walked offstage and shook off the exhilaration they had felt when in character. They flooded the wings of the theatre and and were scattered off to their dressing rooms to change out of their costumes and remove their makeup and such. Kurt literally skipped down the hallway to his dressing room in his cheery and bright mood after his performance-high. His eyes shone as he spotted the giant gold star on his door with his name on it. He had finally done it, he was studying at NYADA and had just performed his first ever musical there, as one of the essential secondary characters no less.

He walked inside and sat at his vanity and began his hour-long skin care routine with moisturizer, toner, cleanser, exfoliator, the works. When he was halfway through, the phone buzzed on the desk and he picked it up, trying not to get cream on his device, and saw that he had a text from Finn. He opened it and placed it against the mirror to read while rubbing product into his skin.

_Kurt, you have to get down here now. -Finn_

Kurt scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion and quickly rinsed his face and hands before sending a text back.

_Why? Get down where? What's going on? -Kurt_

Kurt began to strip off his many layers of costume as he waited for a reply. The stage was boiling with the lights aimed directly at the actors and the costumes they were forced to wear because the play took place in winter. He grabbed one of his designer outfits from his walk in closet and quickly got dressed before his phone vibrated yet again. He picked it up and his eyes went wide.

_Rachel's dead. -Finn_

Kurt blanched and dropped his phone. His best friend in the whole world who was supposed to star opposite him in the musical and had been replaced by an understudy at the last minute... was gone? How could this have happened? Rachel couldn't be gone, surely his step-brother was playing a prank on him, but something tugged at his heart and he knew it was the truth. Still, he had to be sure...

_What? How? Why? Where? When? … who? -Kurt_

_She was murdered. Dunno why. At my house. About half an hour ago. No idea. -Finn_

_How can you be so calm about this? SHE WAS YOUR WIFE! -Kurt_

_You can't exactly see emotion through texts... can you? I mean, that's what emoticons are for right? -Finn_

_Finn, you obviously haven't quite grasped the reality of the situation yet. I will not be the one to break it to you, rather, I'll be the one to pick up the pieces. I'll be there ASAP. -Kurt_

Kurt grabbed whatever he thought he needed and bolted out of the building in a blur, not bothering to lock the door behind him or congratulate anyone on how well they had performed that night. Because Rachel wasn't there to congratulate. She wasn't there to boast about how amazing she had been and occasionally throw a random compliment to try and balance off her arrogance. She wasn't there to laugh with him about the good old times or discuss boys or secrets or anything ever again... He'd never see her bright smile, her walk with a skip in her step, her laughing at something he'd said that was witty and sarcastic, her complaints about their height difference making it hard to hug each other, the sparkle in her eyes whenever she performed with such emotion, he'd never catch her and Finn making out on their couch or acting all cuddly and cute and secretly making Kurt jealous of what they had no matter how many times they fought. He would never again get to hold her as she cried over something Finn had said or done, never again get to reassure her about her insecurities, never get to congratulate her on a job well done on their performance that night, never get to tell her how much she meant to him and how she was like a sister to him even though she was his sister-in-law. God, the tears were already blurring his vision and his mind was swirling with thoughts of Rachel. His heart ached so much and eventually the tears became too much and he succumbed to them, collapsing not a foot away from his car and leaning against it for support as he sobbed uncontrollably in the parking lot.

He got plenty of weird looks but no one came to comfort him, because Rachel had been the only one to ever truly be there for Kurt and now she was gone. Kurt cried harder and banged his fist into his car door, making a small dent in it but not caring. He'd lost his best friend and he'd loved her so much despite everything about her that screamed "ANNOYING!". He loved her for everything she was and he missed her so much it physically hurt. He clutched his chest, wrinkling his collared Alexander McQueen shirt and for once, not caring. He managed to unlock the door of his car and crawl in, even though he was on the passenger side. Once he locked the doors and was safely in his vehicle, he cried more. He was sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe and he began panting and coughing and sniffling until he truly couldn't breathe. He felt like he was having a panic attack as his heart raced a thousand beats per minute and his vision blurred, whether from tears or lack of oxygen he wasn't sure, but soon enough he managed to calm down enough to stop his panting and coughing and sniffled.

Taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from his eyes, he made his way to the driver's seat and tried not to think about how many times he and Rachel had sat in his car and laughed or cried or had been in a fight or had awkward silence or anything. He knew Rachel wouldn't want him to get in a car accident because he was so devastated over her death and he managed to keep his breathing calm and regular, even if the tears continued to fall uncontrollably.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Kurt exited the car about a block away from Finn's house and mentally prepared himself for the worst. The crowd was actually quite small and obviously clueless but it was there nonetheless. Kurt politely shoved his way to the front and saw that the entire perimeter of the house was surrounded in police tape and he held back another sob. He approached as close as he dared, searching for Finn.

"Kurt!" The eighteen year old turned around and spotted his step-brother a few meters away, looking impassive. Kurt ran to the younger man and threw his arms around him, sobbing like a maniac into his chest, finding only a little bit of comfort in having someone who was in just as much grief as he was. Finn was frozen, he didn't wrap his arms around his brother like he had done many times before. His face wasn't twisted in torture and his body wasn't racked with sobs like Kurt's. Confused, the crying one looked up.

"Finn?"

"Thanks for coming."

"Of course! You didn't think I wouldn't come would you?"

"Well, no but-"

"Good. No thanks needed. Now, why aren't you upset?" After a great deal of silence, well, as much silence as you can get with tiny crowds chatting excitedly around them, Finn whispered.

"It's easier to deal with it like this."

"Oh Finn..." Kurt wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "You feel numb don't you, like there's a part of your heart missing like a hole and it will never be filled until she comes back. You don't want to feel awful like I do, but you don't want to feel happy because you're not, so you settled on feeling nothing because it's better than excruciating pain. Am I right?" Finn simply nodded and Kurt squeezed him tighter, rubbing his back soothingly. He had felt the exact same way when his mother had died. He swallowed back another lump in his throat. "I'm right here alright? If you decide that you want to let it all out, I'm right here and I always will be."

"What if you're not? Rachel said she'd never leave me and look what happened!" Finn exclaimed, his voice rising an octave half-way through. His eyes were shining with unshed tears and he broke away from the hug.

"Finn, I can't make any promises other than the fact that I promise you I will never leave you willingly. Never." Kurt reassured. "Your heart will heal eventually, but what you two had, it was true love and you may never find that with anyone else, but you will find love again Finn. Whether it be brotherly love from me, motherly love from Carole, or maybe girlfriend love from someone else, you will find love again. I have faith in you. My heart will heal alongside yours and we will get through this together okay?" Finn just nodded mutely and this time, he initiated the hug and embraced Kurt tightly, almost strangling the older boy (by no more than a few months).

"Thanks Kurt. You always know what to say."

"I wouldn't say that..." They pulled away and Finn wiped his nose with the back of his hand and attempted a smile, but it turned into more of a sneer. "I'm going to go ask that police officer what they think happened. You can come if you want." Finn nodded again and - hand in hand - they weaved their way through the crowd until they reached the man facing away from them dressed in a police officer's uniform. Kurt tapped his shoulder and he turned around to face them. The man was attractive, Kurt had to admit, but his heart wouldn't allow his thoughts to go any further as memories of Rachel flashed through his mind at nanosecond intervals.

The man had black hair with so much gel in it that it looked like a brick and his eyebrows were thick and triangular... in a way. His eyes were a deep and seductive hazel and he stood at about five foot seven. He appeared to be a teenager, too young for this job, and his uniform appeared to be maybe one size too big and he tugged at his sleeve uncomfortably as he stared at Kurt and Finn.

"Yes?" His voice was smooth and (being the singers that they were) Kurt and Finn immediately knew that if he sang, he would have a lovely tenor voice.

"Yes, I'm Kurt Hummel and this is my step-brother Finn Hudson. Rachel is my sister-in-law and his wife." Kurt introduced, his voice shaking from all his crying. He sniffled once but held back his sobs. The officer looked him up and down and nodded as he held out his hand.

"I'm the junior officer in charge of this case. The name's Blaine Anderson."

GLEE

Blaine tried very hard not to rake his eyes over Kurt's body, but he honest to God couldn't help himself. The guy had perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair and glasz eyes that were green, blue, and grey all at the same time. His complexion was as pale as porcelain and he stood lean and tall, maybe five foot ten? His was dressed fashionably in skinny jeans, a black silk coloured shirt, and a bright white leather trench coat on his arm, the other arm currently holding the hand of the much taller boy, Finn.

It only took a second and he prayed no one noticed. No one reacted so he continued on as if he hadn't just checked out the first guy his age he'd ever seen in his life who wasn't a spy or part of the spy organization. He lived in a high-tech building and almost never left except for on field missions which were rare occasions for someone as young as him. He was going to take what he could get, but he couldn't get distracted. He was on a mission and these boys could give him some clues as to who had murdered Rachel.

He had just finished shaking Kurt's extremely soft and pale hand that felt cold from the night air yet held a firm grip when he spoke again. "Would you mind if I asked you guys a few questions or would you prefer to ask me about the gruesome details you'll regret asking in the morning." He quirked a side of his mouth upward in an attempt to lighten the mood but Finn blanched and Kurt tightened his hold on his hand considerably, clearly not amused.

"Ask away." He said in his counter tenor voice that was higher pitched than most guys but not by much.

"Well, for starters, do you have any suspicions as to whom it may have been?" Blaine asked, taking out a notepad from his back pocket and a pencil from behind his ear in preparation for scribbling down notes, when he had a better idea and took out a tape recorder to record their answers instead. Finn looked a little intimidated but Kurt didn't shy down in the slightest.

"Nothing comes to mind immediately." He shook his head.

"Have you noticed any peculiar behaviour recently?" This was directed at Finn who so obviously spent the most time with her (at first glance anyway). However, it was Kurt who spoke up but missed the grateful look his brother gave him for making sure he didn't have to speak.

"We haven't. She was as bubbly and annoying as ever." He rolled his eyes and Blaine wondered how he could be handling this so well.

"You seem to be handling this particularly well..." his eyes narrowed. Had Kurt been the one to murder Rachel? It seemed unlikely, but not impossible. The buzz of the crowd seemed to die down around them as they realized he was concocting an investigation. He realized at that moment that he probably should have taken them somewhere more private but he shrugged it off mentally.

Kurt snorted. "You should have seen me five minutes ago, I was sobbing like an idiot so hard I almost crashed my car on the way here." He looked back into Blaine's eyes and - being the spy that he was - Blaine could tell immediately that he wasn't lying. He had been trained to be a human lie detector just from looking deeply into someone's eyes and watching for tics. He wasn't the best at it, but he was fairly good; usually good enough to tell who was innocent and who had something to hide, and Kurt was putting everything out there. His eyes betrayed his facial expressions as they displayed such suffering and hurt that Blaine wondered for the briefest of seconds just how close he and Rachel had been. Was there some sort of complicated story of a jealous affair going on? He banished the thought immediately, making sure he didn't jump to conclusions - still, he stored it away for later.

Finn, somehow feeling what Blaine had been thinking before, spoke up for the first time in the spy's presence. "I can vouch for him, I saw him before we came here and he was a complete wreck." Kurt elbowed him lightly and Finn attempted another smile but failed. Smiling just didn't feel right when the one you loved was dead.

Blaine nodded. "Alright. Was there anyone scheduled to come over tonight besides Rachel?" Finn shook his head in response and Kurt spoke yet again.

"No. She wasn't even supposed to be here. She was supposed to meet me outside the theater a few hours ago but when she didn't show we had to throw in an understudy at the last minute and put the production on without her." Blaine raised his eyebrows only slightly. No one noticed. He was the tiniest bit surprised. So Kurt was an actor, as was Rachel. That had not been on her file. He voiced as such and Kurt explained. "This is our first musical and it's not a paid job. It's a school musical. We both attend the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. Our opening night was yesterday, today was the second showing." So Kurt and Rachel were singers too. Interesting. He had looked through Rachel's file thoroughly while on the private jet to New York and discovered basically everything about her.

She was born to two gay dads with a surrogate by the name of Shelby Corcoran. Her dads were Hiram and Leroy Berry and she attended William McKinley High School and was lead female soloist for her glee club. Okay, so he knew she sang, but he didn't know she planned to make a career out of it. Then it hit him, both Finn and Kurt had been in the glee club called New Directions along with Rachel and several other members. He planned on visiting Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce, who were also in New York, and interrogating them.

"So she was supposed to meet you where?"

"The back entrance to the theater on campus." Blaine's eyebrows shot up noticeably and Kurt blushed a teensy bit, but Blaine blamed it on the cold wind that blew through the night and bit at their skin. Why would Kurt be embarassed about a thing like that? Kurt shivered and stepped closer to Finn who subconsciously stepped closer as well.

"What time?"

"What?"

"What time was Rachel supposed to meet you there?"

"Oh, six o'clock."

"I assume thats PM?"

"You assumed correctly." Kurt's tears had stopped flowing and his sniffles were becoming less frequent, but his eyes were red and puffy and Finn's face was unnaturally blank. They were cold and it was getting late. The sky was almost pitch black and the stars were barely visible behind the purple clouds that loomed overhead.

"Alright, that's enough for now." Blaine turned off the tape recorder and put it in his jacket pocket and quickly swept his eyes around them. Most of the crowd had cleared except for a few people walking back to their houses and a couple of Blaine's fellow spies lurking around, posing as police officers. "I'll need to speak to both of you privately, but not tonight. It's getting too late. I know this is incredibly rude to invite myself over but would you mind if I came over to your house tomorrow, Finn?" The boy in question gave him an odd look and Blaine could have smacked himself. "I mean, wherever you will be staying?" Finn nodded.

"I'll probably be at Kurt and Rachel's-" he stopped himself short, eyes widening. Kurt stiffened and patted his hand comfortingly.

"Don't worry Finn, I won't make you stay there."

"I- no. I'll be fine." He sucked in a deep breath, and Blaine made sure to run his words through his head first before saying them. He turned to Kurt.

"And you?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm incredibly busy tomorrow, but I may be able to squeeze you in over breakfast at Tiffany's. Is that alright? It's the only time I'm available what with rehearsals and my social life and planning Rachel's funeral." Finn winced and Kurt immediately looked apologetic and began to rub his brother's arm soothingly. Blaine nodded in understanding.

"That's fine."

"Meet me there at six in the morning."

"Okay. I'll need your address." He deliberately didn't mention he already knew where they both lived because he'd given their files a brief once-over for important information. He didn't want to seem creepy. Kurt told him the address and Blaine jotted down the numbers and street name into his phone, creating two events for the following day. He looked up from the screen and smiled at them both. "It was nice to meet the both of you and I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances. I'll see the two of you tomorrow." With that, Blaine turned on his heel and left without letting them return his good-bye. He was in a surprisingly better mood than he had been not a few hours before and he didn't want it to wear off. He tugged some more at the uniform he had "confiscated" and cursed it for being too big. He returned to the police car parked around the corner and changed back into his own clothes, sighing in relief at the familiarity of his clothes he never thought he'd miss.

He changed the police officer that was knocked out in the trunk and fed him a serum that would wake him in a matter of minutes. Blaine rearranged him so that it looked like he had simply passed out from exhaustion and quickly fled the vicinity. He leaped from shadow to shadow and clinging to every wall he could find, evidently avoiding the streetlights that would give away his position.

He couldn't hear his fellow spies behind him, but he knew they were there. Spies were trained not to make a sound to give away their position, and they were experts at sneaking up on people, or sneaking away. Blaine's feet pounded soundlessly on the pavement with his high-tech shoes that David had created for him to test out. They worked perfectly as he raced back to the hotel he had checked in at earlier that evening.

When he got there, his teammates were in the lobby waiting for him. Nick and Jeff were frowning at him and tapping their feet impatiently almost in a mirror like way. It was almost comical, but Blaine was never one to laugh - ever. Eventually, the staring got to him.

"What?!" He exclaimed, annoyed. Why were they looking at him like he did something wrong? He replayed the night in his head and couldn't figure out what he had done wrong. Jeff sighed and shared an incomprehensible look with Nick before yanking him into the elevator, disabling the security camera and whirling on him, all in under a minute.

"Anderson, you are pushing it."

"Pushing what?!"

"You were way too friendly with those relatives of the victim. They could be suspects!" Jeff burst and Nick nodded his head, not one for outbursts. Both men were several years older than him, in their early to mid-twenties but they didn't intimidate him in the least. He rolled his eyes.

"Well excuse me for trying to pry information out of them in the most effective way." He said sarcastically. He glared at the blonde named Jeff and then turned his glare on Nick, with his shaggy brown hair and hardened brown eyes that were boring and clouded, whereas Kurt's were clear. Kurt had nothing to hide, where as being a spy like Blaine meant you almost always had something to hide, a secret to keep.

"That should have been your last resort." Nick pointed out. Blaine was getting angrier, and when he was angry, he resorted to violence, but never had he hit someone out of anger - still, there was a first for everything.

"Yes, because I'm totally sure they would be friendly towards me AFTER I've tortured them and used whatever other crazy methods you were about to suggest."

"Don't push us Anderson. It's bad enough we're stuck with a kid for this mission, but if you are bringing us down you are going to regret ever surviving that trash can." Jeff's face was an inch away and he was menacing, threatening. Blaine didn't flinch, didn't dare move. He kept his face devoid of emotion, he wouldn't show them the fear they craved, or the retaliation they wanted to get him kicked off the mission. He was smart enough to know that. What they didn't know was that he regretted living through his time at the trash can every day. He'd never asked for this life he'd been given. A life where he was miserable and frustrated and lonely. He'd never met another gay guy before and was curious as to what the others were like.

The elevator bell chimed and Blaine dusted imaginary dust from his shoulder and simply walked out, leaving a fuming spy behind him. He felt their glares piercing his back but he ignored them and used his room key to open the door to his hotel room. He tossed his stuff onto a desk and grabbed the telephone on the nightstand as he plopped down on the bed. He dialed a number that he had etched into his brain during the flight from Westerville, Ohio and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" Greeted a female voice on the other end. Blaine relaxed, his muscles weren't as tensed as they had been with his confrontation with Nick and Jeff. Success. He thought.

"Yes, Santana Lopez? This is junior officer Blaine Anderson. I'm going to need to ask you and your partner Brittany S. Pierce a few questions."


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Hey guys! Long time no see xP okay, so, here's chapter 3 of Paranoid? Yay! I won't give you any spoilers for the chapter so... let's just say that there are certain interactions in here that I like ;) On with the story!**

**Disclaimer ~ I do not own Glee or Tiffany's or anything else familiar.**

Chapter 3

Blaine slept horribly that night. He tossed and turned and kicked his sheets to the foot of the bed in the hot temperature. He'd made a mistake so big it rivaled the size of the Pacific Ocean the day before: he'd told Kurt his name. He'd even told Finn and Santana his real name, when he gave the hotel manager his fake name: Jonathon Von Green. He had been so stupid to reveal his true identity to the suspects of the crime. Now they all knew his name. Of course, if they searched it in Google they would find nothing on him, only some other people who had the same name. Still, it unnerved him to no end to realize that he had made such a fatal flaw. Nick and Jeff were going to kill him. He'd spent the entire night trying to think of a solution to the problem. He could tell them that Blaine Anderson was his fake name that he was forced to use for police officer reasons, but Kurt and Santana didn't seem like the types to buy that kind of lie so easily. Finn and Brittany were another story.

He knew that the chances were low that any of them were the murderer because the gang travelled around the country, where as these people lived in New York and hadn't left. But still, he had to interview them to get all the information and clues he could out of them. Maybe they had noticed something suspicious about Rachel's behaviour as of late, or maybe they were connected to the gang somehow by spying on all of Blaine's spy organization's field contacts. The possibilities were endless. He highly doubted that Kurt or Finn were the guilty party since they were so close to her and didn't seem to be the type, he was leaning more towards Brittany and Santana as the co-culprits, but he didn't know any of them well at all.

He'd only just met them, the girls only over the phone. He knew that that day he would squeeze all the information he could out of them.  
With that thought in mind, he checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and groaned. It was five thirty in the morning. He buried his face in his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, praying for sleep to overtake him. He'd barely slept a wink because his mind had been so preoccupied thinking about the consequences of his stupid actions, and now one of those consequences was lack of sleep. There was no sense in trying to sleep anymore seeing as he was to meet Kurt at Tiffany's in half an hour, so he grudgingly got up and got dressed. He wore black jeans, a black turtleneck, a pair of black converse, and a large grey trench coat with a vibrant purple red scarf Wes had gotten him for his birthday because he claimed that his wardrobe needed colour to express himself. Blaine had his punching bag for that, as well as the guitar he rarely touched anymore.

He locked the door behind him as he left the hotel room and yawned. That was when he realized his breath smelled awful. He rushed back into the room and brushed his teeth, hurrying out at five forty-five. He was running late. He was halfway through the lobby when he realized he didn't gel his hair. He swore under his breath. It was going to be one of those mornings. He didn't have time to go back just make his hair look presentable so he just hailed a cab and hopped in, hoping he'd make it on time.

He mentally prepared what he was going to say in his mind as he inhaled the scent of worn out leather and un-showered cab driver. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and began to breathe through his mouth. As it turns out, his hotel was only ten minutes away from Tiffany's so he got there with time to spare. He sighed in relief. He would never let his guard down like that ever again. The feeling of being unprepared and stressed and worried and in the dark was horrifying, and he never wanted to experience it again.

He glanced at his watch. It was five fifty five. He was five minutes early. That meant that he actually did have time to gel his hair. He groaned in annoyance.

"Cranky this morning, are we?" A voice behind him said and Blaine turned around calmly to face Kurt, who was dressed impeccably in a brown leather jacket and blue and purple scarf with dark blue skinny jeans and designer shoes. His hair was styled back in a way that made him look younger, like he was just starting high school. His face had contorted itself into a half-smile with a raised eyebrow, giving off an air of playfulness that contrasted with the dark circles under his dulled grey eyes. He cocked his hip in greeting and Blaine's face didn't change expressions.

"I'd say I got up on the wrong side of the bed, but I'd have had to have slept to begin with." Kurt chuckled and held the door open for Blaine as they walked inside, the cool air conditioner whipping both boys in the face, making them both colder in the morning October air. They walked up to the line at the counter and stood side by side, patiently waiting for their turn to order. Kurt's stomach growled and he flushed a brilliant red that stood out amongst his pale ivory complexion. Blaine simply smiled.

"I usually have breakfast by now." He explained and Blaine raised his eyebrows. How early did this guy get up anyway? As if in answer to his unspoken question, Kurt shrugged. "Early riser." They moved forward in the line. Blaine cleared his throat to fill the silence.

"So, how close were you and Rachel?" he asked. Kurt's demeanor visibly saddened and Blaine almost regretted asking - almost. He needed answers ASAP. Kurt bit his lip, avoiding eye contact and seemingly interested in the shiny floor. He took a deep breath.

"Really close. She was my sister-in-law and even before that we were quite close. We're both similar in our own ways and completely opposite in ways like fashion. There was this one time I caught her wearing the tackiest christmas sweater paired with a plaid skirt that went to her ankles and Nike running shoes - in June! It was horrendous!" Blaine could tell that Kurt was trying not to think about the depressing thoughts that plagued his mind about his best friend. He laughed along with him as he pictured the petite girl in said outfit. He stopped himself short. Was he laughing? Surely it had to be fake, for Kurt's benefit. He settled on that and tuned back in to what Kurt was saying, except he had finished talking.

"How often did you guys hang out?"

"Oh, very often. We're loft mates; well, we were." His eyes darkened and Blaine felt his heart go out to the boy. "We'd go to the mall, sit around the apartment and flip through Vogue magazines, watch musicals day and night, sing flirty duets in front of Finn to get on his nerves... I'm gonna miss it." He sighed as they moved up in line again. They weren't far from the front now. Blaine bit his lip. He didn't want to make Kurt any more sad than he already was, but it was required in order to suck all the information about Rachel's killer as possible.

"And why exactly was Rachel at Finn's house instead of your apartment last night?" He asked. Kurt scrunched his eyebrows together as if he hadn't thought of that.

"I... I don't know. Maybe she wanted a kiss before going onstage but Finn wasn't home?" Kurt offered. Blaine would have to ask Finn the same question later.

"And did you notice any... strange or unusual behaviour as of late?" His tone sounded formal and he kept it that way, liking how dapper it sounded. Kurt scrunched up his eyebrows, deep in thought. He knew that Rachel's justice was possibly riding on this and he wanted to do whatever he could to help. He was so concentrated that he didn't even notice the line move forward. Blaine slightly nudged him and he stepped forward as if in a trance. Blaine kept quiet, not wanting to disturb a possible clue to finding the traveling gang that was rivals to his own organization. They were quiet for a long time. Neither said a word until they were up to the counter where a girl in uniform sneered at them. Before she could say a word, Kurt spoke up, breaking the silence that had surrounded the two as if popping a bubble.

"I'll have one non-fat grande mocha and a cheese bagel with herb cream cheese." He ordered and the girl didn't look happy about being cut off. She opened her mouth to speak again and Blaine just knew she was going to say something rude - the chewing gum spoke for itself - so he interrupted her.

"And I'll have a medium drip and two pieces of biscotti." She huffed and punched their orders in the cash register. Glaring at them with a strangely high intensity for something as small as not being able to talk, she spat out the price.

"That'll be eight ninety-four." She held out her hand expectantly and Kurt reached for his wallet but Blaine put his bare hand over Kurt's to stop him when he felt a shock go through him at the touch of skin to skin. He jumped back as if he had been burned but quickly covered it with what he was going to say in the first place.

"Nah. It's on me." Kurt stared at him like he was crazy and Blaine wondered if the other boy even noticed the shock. He had to have, he was hiding his hands in the sleeves of his jacket; then again, maybe he was just cold.

"Don't be ridiculous. I can afford my own coffee."

"I know that. But you had to schedule time out of your hectic day for me. The least I can do is repay you."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Rachel." Kurt narrowed his eyes. He was a stubborn one and Blaine knew he most likely wouldn't win this battle, but he gave it one last shot.

"Are you really going to turn down free coffee?" Kurt opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. He glared playfully at Blaine who smiled. Success!

"I suppose not. Never look a gift horse in the mouth right?"

"Exactly." Blaine pulled a ten dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to the girl who stood impatiently tapping her fingers against the counter. He gave her a warm smile and she rolled her eyes and handed him his change. He accepted it and the two boys moved down the counter to the spot where they were to wait for their coffees.

Kurt resumed thinking about recent times with Rachel, despite how much it hurt. His chest squeezed so tight he almost couldn't breathe, but he managed to loosen the hold by thinking of the good times and not the bad. He thought back to a few days prior when he and Rachel had been in their apartment reading Vogue magazines when the tiny girl huffed and threw hers down to the floor with a "splat!" and rolled over so that she was face-up on the bed, head hanging off the edge. Kurt sat across from her on the floor, leaning against his desk and flipping through the latest issue, seemingly not having noticed his loft mate's dramatics.

"Rachel, if that magazine is in anything less than mint condition I will kill you." He said in such a calm manner that it was deemed laughable, though he was dead serious... well, not really. He obviously wouldn't kill her but he would exact revenge. Rachel just huffed again and crossed her arms, the blood rushing to her face as her brown hair tumbled around her face upside down, framing her brown eyes.

"But Kurt, we've been looking at these for hours and I've already read all of these! You've got in your hands in the only issue I haven't read and I'm BORED!" She whined, throwing her hands up into the air for emphasis, but only managing to hit the floor. Kurt sighed and closed the magazine with care.

"Then go do something." He suggested as he picked up the magazine his friend had been reading and placed them back in their folders underneath his desk.

"Like what?"

"Opening night is in a few days. You could rehearse."

"You told me you were getting sick of rehearsing."

"That doesn't have to stop you from rehearsing by yourself."

"But rehearsing by yourself isn't the same!"

"But it's still rehearsing."

"Kuuuuuuuuurt!" She whined and Kurt winced.

"Fine then! Don't rehearse. You know everything perfectly anyway." Rachel beamed at the compliment. "Just watch TV or something."

"I've tried that, there's nothing on! Why do you think I came here?" She asked. Kurt held a hand to his chest, feigning hurt in a melodramatic way.

"Oh! That hurts!" He exclaimed and threw himself onto the bed so that he lay next to her, his head next her feet and vice versa. Rachel giggled.

"Aw Kurt! I'm sorry. Forgive me?" She put on her best pout that he couldn't see but he knew it was there. He rolled his eyes in response.

"Fine. I guess I could forgive you..." He trailed off. Rachel playfully squealed and jumped on him. "Ah!" He exclaimed when she began to attack him with pillows. "Oh you asked for it!" He grabbed the nearest pillow and began whacking her with it as they laughed together, sending feathers from their pillow fight flying all over the room. When they were done with their pillow fight Kurt attacked Rachel and began to tickle her mercilessly.

And so Round 2 began. Rachel squealed and shrieked and cried as her laughter erupted throughout the apartment. She wiggled and squirmed but couldn't escape her best friend's grasp.

"I give up!" She screamed. "White flag! I surrender! Uncle!" She gasped out between breaths. Kurt finally released her and they both collapsed onto the bed, breathless. "Okay, what now?"

Kurt seemed to really consider his options for a minute before blurting, "Wanna people watch?"

Rachel shrugged. "Okay." The two stood up and made their way to the almost floor to ceiling window in Kurt's bedroom surrounded by white trimming. They pushed aside long violet curtains that fell to the carpet and squinted through the glare of the sunlight to observe the humans four floors below. There was a mother pushing a baby carriage across the street, struggling to walk seeing as how she was pregnant. There was a young heterosexual couple walking hand in hand in front of the apartment building, glowing with happiness and love. There was a man in a pea coat that blended with the colour of the sidewalk wearing a matching hat and speaking into a phone. He was leaning against a lamp post a few feet from the entrance to their building. After a few seconds he grudgingly hung up and turned to leave when he bumped into the young couple. He held up a hand in apology and continued walking in the opposite direction. The girl stuck her tongue out at his back and her boyfriend laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. As soon as they turned around, Kurt searched for the man, but he had disappeared.

Rachel and Kurt laughed along with each other as they watched several people have arguments over the silliest of things and they made funny voices over the people they saw to create context and burst into fits of giggles at the situations they had come up with on the spot.

Kurt sighed in present time as he and Blaine sat down at a table for two, their chairs scraping against the tiled floor as they pulled them out to sit down. He missed Rachel more than he ever thought he would. He loved her as a sister and even though he still had Mercedes, she was too far away to be the best friend Rachel had been. He sipped his mocha and relished the hot liquid warming his tongue and body. He realized Blaine had been waiting patiently for him to say something and so he blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Rachel is the most bubbly, annoying, insecure, lovable, loyal, talented person I have ever met." Blaine just nodded in response and bit into his biscotti. Kurt didn't want it to seem like he just said something at random, so he kept going, hoping it would go somewhere. "And one time, we were people watching from our apartment and saw this rude guy in a pea coat talking to someone on the phone and then accidentally bump into a couple and he didn't even apologize. Then at the mall the week before that I saw him again," Kurt didn't realize this until he'd said it aloud, but now that he thought about it, the way he walked did look somewhat familiar... "he was on his phone again and he seemed bored. He walked past the store we were in twice but I didn't see him again after that. Now that I think about it, it's kind of suspicious." He put a finger to his chin, deep in thought and Blaine listened eagerly. Could Kurt be onto something? Could he have a lead? Kurt himself didn't even know, it was like his mouth was on autopilot.

"Can you give me a description of the man?" Blaine asked after a time. Kurt looked up from his bagel and right into his eyes, bright blue glowing in the morning light of the sun streaming in through the shop's windows. He quickly swallowed his bite and answered.

"I guess, but it won't be very specific. My imagination is good for two things," he held up one finger as he said each thing, "designing outfits, and performing."

Blaine just nodded eagerly and took out his notepad and perfectly sharpened pencil. He wrote Suspect at the top of the page in his elegant script that he had been taught when he was very young. It was much neater than any other teenager his age and Kurt noticed this, storing the information at the back of his mind for later use.

"Well, he looked about my height with brown hair that was slicked back, kind of like yours but with less gel." Blaine grimaced but didn't interrupt as he took note of what Kurt was saying. "I didn't see his face but both times he was wearing a pea coat, one that was a horrendous colour of beige and the other an equally as ugly shade of grey. I don't remember what pants he wore but his cell phone was black and... yeah, that's about as much as I can give you. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. I'm not even sure if it was the same guy or even if it was a woman considering I didn't see his or her face but it's a possibility." He shrugged and took another sip of his beverage. Blaine just smiled at him after finishing up his notes and tucked it away in his deep pockets.

"It's no problem. You've given me something to go off of and it's a start. You've been a great help but I really must be going." Blaine said, a sparkle in his eye as he always got when he got a clue to help solve a case. Kurt thought about how beautiful and inspiring it was and simply nodded. Blaine stuffed the rest of his biscotti in his mouth and waved good-bye, grabbing his coffee and exiting the shop. When he was completely out of sight, Kurt sighed and rested his face on his hand which was leaning on the table.

Little did he know that there was a pair of eyes watching him through the glass window with professional experience in being sneaky. Kurt finished off his bagel and swept his bag up with a flourish, making his dramatic exit. When he stepped into the cold air, the body that held the pair of spying eyes had long disappeared into the confusing and noisy streets in the very heart of New York City.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. Hi everybody! Here's chapter 4 (Duh, that's why you're reading this :P) and it has some adorable Finn, and some (probably OOC) Brittana. Please don't hate me by the end! I'll explain at the bottom. Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Glee**

Chapter 4

Blaine hurried into a cab and randomly blurted Kurt's address to the driver. His mind was far too preoccupied with thoughts on his lead that he couldn't be bothered with unimportant greetings. He quickly took out his phone and began reading over the digital file on Finn as they car got caught in traffic.

Finn Hudson: Eighteen years old. Male. Six foot four. Attended William McKinley High School. Was married to Rachel Hudson (Formerly Berry). Was the quarterback of his high school football team. Lead soloist of the school's glee club, New Directions who won Nationals in his senior year. His father died in the military and never met his son. His mother (Carole Hudson) is currently re-married to Burt Hummel. Finn's step brother is Kurt Hummel. Finn was suspected for murder of a mailman at the age of fifteen but was found innocent. He currently lives in a house in New York City at 912 Apple Street. He is widowed.

Blaine kept reading, preparing himself for the interview that lay ahead of him. He slid his phone back into his pocket as the car reached its destination and he stepped out, throwing an appropriate amount of money in the front seat. The cold air bit him again and he resisted the urge to wince. He had been in much worse conditions before - well, virtually at least. Trying to light in a fire in the North Pole proved very difficult during a blizzard.

He slammed the door shut behind him and walked into the building. And then it hit him. He was going to see Rachel's apartment. Not only that, but it was Kurt's apartment as well. He was going to be able to tap into their interior decorating skills and maybe they would help him decipher some things. His stomach felt weird and he blamed it on the fact that his breakfast was coffee and two biscuits. After rising in the elevator for four floors, he stepped out and made his way down the hall until he reached apartment 413. He knocked without hesitation.

There was a brief pause and the door was cracked open to reveal a scared and tired looking Finn. "Hi." he mumbled.

"Hi." Blaine greeted back. He stood there for a second. "May I come in?" Finn jumped and looked both ways down the hall.

"Sorry, just a bit paranoid." He opened the door all the way and Blaine stepped in. Poor Finn. His wife had been murdered and he very well could be next. Blaine took off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the hooks that were in a perfect line on the wall adjacent to the doorway.

"Nothing to be sorry for." He assured. He took in the apartment with suspicion and awe at the same time. The interior was modern and classic with polished wooden furniture and matching coloured accents. He couldn't even begin to describe it. Let's just say that the giant flower chandelier was the most impressive thing in the room - and that was saying something. "Kurt has a lovely home." He complimented, even though neither Kurt nor Rachel were there to accept it.

"Umm... thanks?" Finn said, unsure of what to say. Blaine gave a curt nod and he decided he needed to elaborate while desperately searching the kitchen for something to eat.

"Rachel has such taste." Blaine commented and Finn spluttered, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth before being wiped off.

"Dude, Kurt would kill you if he were right now." Curious, Blaine took a seat at the kitchen breakfast bar, admiring the dark marble counter's contrast to the white wooden cabinets.

"Why?"

"Because he designed the whole place, save Rachel's room. He figured out the colour scheme, bought all the furniture - and apparently everything he bought was on sale which I find hard to believe - arranged things according to some feng sushi thing, like... everything." Finn shrugged as he pulled out some cantonese food from the fridge, obviously left over. He dug into it and began to eat ravenously, as if he hadn't seen food for a week.

"Impressive." Finn nodded and at least had the grace to swallow before speaking again and Blaine let out the tiniest of sighs in relief.

"Yeah, he's awesome. He wants to be a fashion designer if he can't make it as a Broadway star. It's his minor." Blaine could see right through the boy's tactic of talking about his step-brother in favour of speaking about his deceased wife. He felt a pang of pity but shoved it away quickly. He couldn't let that get in the way of his mission.

"Fascinating." He couldn't help the bite in his tone, it just slipped out. Pretending it hadn't happened, he slipped into a calmer voice. "But we both know I'm not here to talk about your amazing step-brother." Finn raised an eyebrow at the word "amazing" but didn't comment on it, since Blaine himself didn't seem to process what he had just said. He gulped down another bite of food and nodded, his eyes dulling.

"Right. Get on with it please." Blaine nodded, taking out his notepad and pencil and turning to a new page.

"Why was Rachel at your house instead of at the theater with Kurt?" He asked and Finn winced. He took another bite of food to stall time and think about his answer. Blaine waited patiently, and when he finally opened his mouth to speak (thankfully empty of noodles) he didn't like the answer that came out.

"I don't know."

"Do have any suspicions as to why she was there?"

"Maybe she forgot something there the last time she was there?"

"Any other possibilities?"

"Dude, possibilities are endless. Didn't you know that?" Blaine had to try really hard not to roll his eyes.

"Any possibilities you think are probable?"

"Umm... maybe she came over to surprise me with something?"

"Did you know she was going to be there?"

"No."

"Where were you?"

"I was..." he hesitated and Blaine took note of this. Something about his demeanor set Finn on edge and he became really nervous. "I was at work."

"And where do you work?"

"I... McDonald's." He replied, and Blaine pretended not to have known that beforehand. He feigned scribbling in his notebook.

"Right, do you have any suspicions as to who might be the culprit?"

"No."

"Think. Really, really hard."

Finn scrunched up his face in concentration, food abandoned for once in favor of using his brain. Kurt would never have believed it. Finn thought extremely hard.

"Well, there was this one time this blonde ugly woman accidentally shoved me and didn't apologize." he offered. This time, Blaine did roll his eyes.

"Not helpful."

"Oh, well I'm sorry I couldn't be of more use to you." Finn muttered sarcastically. Blaine's rage was too close to being ignited for his liking. Anything could set him off.

"Well maybe you should try harder."

"Damn it! I'M TRYING!" the boy screeched and he knocked over the cold noodles, spilling chinese food all over the floor. "Oh crap! Kurt and R- Kurt will kill me!" His anger had dissipated as fast as it had come and he began to clean the white tile floor. Blaine blinked. What just happened? How could someone just... stop being angry? Was that possible? Why couldn't Blaine do that? He had to spend several minutes hitting something senseless before he calmed down. What was the trick?

He watched half in amusement half in anger at being brushed aside as Finn mumbled profanities to himself and began to scrub the floor vigorously - with the hem of his shirt no less. Blaine took deep breaths to calm himself and spent almost five minutes regulating his respiration intervals. After that, he simply smirked at Finn and grabbed a towel from a rack hanging above the counter. He began to scrub as well and Finn was so startled he jumped up and accidentally fell backwards into a chair. Blaine kept smirking and scrubbing, effectively erasing the noodle from the floor. After only thirty seconds, the spy stood up and admired his work. Kurt would never be the wiser.

"Now that that's settled, can we get on with the interview?"

As it turns out, they were there for the better part of an hour discussing Rachel and every little detail that wasn't in her file, like how she and Finn had broken up and gotten back together numerous times, or how their relationship had been part of a love-pentagon. They discussed her idol of Barbara Streisand and her Broadway dreams and how self-centered (but with a good heart) she was. They spoke briefly about how close she and Kurt were, seeing as she chose to live with him rather than her husband but Finn said their parents made them live in separate places. Blaine raised an eyebrow and wondered what having parents would be like for a fraction of a second before he stopped himself and forced his mind to focus on the conversation.

By the end, Finn was no help with the case and it was almost eight o'clock. He only had one page of notes and he hoped Santana and Brittany would be of more help. He quickly said goodbye to the extremely tall boy and exited the room, then the building. He sighed when the cold air hit him yet again. It was only his second day away from Westerville, Ohio, yet he missed how blissfully warm it was - at least, more so than New York. He checked his phone. Santana and Brittany lived in a little house quite a ways away and he tried and failed to hail a cab. He sighed again, angry that his cab hailing skills had somehow diminished within the past two hours. He settled for walking, keeping an eye out for the guy in a pea coat Kurt had described.

Being a spy, he was very observant. He could tell you how many buttons the man he just passed had on his jacket. He could give you a vivid description of the tattoo on the motorcyclist's arms as he zoomed past. He could count how many people in the vicinity were wearing pea coats (0) and he could tell you exactly what shade of red the girl that had just smirked at him was. Wait what?

He turned around to face her but she was sauntering away, swinging her hips unnaturally and bending her knees a little too much when she walked, making it look like she was trying to kick herself. He was puzzled. What was the smirk for? Then she turned her face just enough to catch him staring and she just blew him a kiss and mouthed "call me". Blaine stood rooted to the spot as she disappeared with the other New Yorkers who were busily crossing the streets in a hurry to get to their destinations.

Had that girl been... flirting with him? Obviously her gaydar was broken. Wait, did straight people have gaydars? Did she even give him his number? No, no she hadn't. He would have noticed. But being isolated from civilization all his life definitely made him oblivious to things like that. He shook his head and continued walking, not interested in her in the least.

He walked for what felt like hours until he reached their home. He'd had a GPS function installed in his phone courtesy of Artie and it was very helpful when walking around aimlessly. The satellite had given him the shortest route to his destination and he was grateful to have the crippled boy on the team, if just for someone his age to talk to, gay or not.  
He sucked in a deep breath and put on his best "don't mess with me" face as he walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. A couple seconds later, a Latina girl opened the door, and her "don't mess with me" face was a lot more threatening than his. Deflated, but undeterred, Blaine cleared his throat.

"Santana Lopez, I am Junior Agent Blaine Anderson of the NYPD-" he held up his intricately designed fake badge, "- and I am here for our scheduled interview you and Brittany." Santana rolled her eyes and flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder.

"Cut the act hobbit, no need to be so formal in a bitch's home." Keeping a straight face - no pun intended - at the girl's attitude and forwardness, he followed her into her home. It was very small with only a small living room, kitchen, and bathroom on the first floor. It was very cozy with a small couch in the dead center of the floor and an interesting aztech carpet. He plunked himself down on the couch and threw his feet up onto the glass coffee table. If she wanted to play that game, he was happy to oblige.

"Well, now that I've cut said act, let's get down to business shall we?" He clasped his hands together over his stomach as Santana sat down right on the table merely in inch from his feet and she leaned forward, giving him an unwanted view if her cleavage. He didn't react. "Where's Brittany?"

"She's at work." she whispered, running her fingers over the soles of Blaine's shoes before taking them off completely. Blaine raised an eyebrow at this and was about to object to the fact that Brittany didn't have a job (he read so in her file) when she cut in. "Now let's do our business..." Alarms fired off in his head and he sprung from the couch so fast Santana had barely registered that fact before she blinked. She smirked. "Playing hard to get are we?" She murmured, scanning the room with her brown eyes framed by long and luscious lashes.

Blaine held his breath as he clung to the ceiling with the gadget Artie had given him for his birthday. It was a special pen that when clicked in morse code a certain codeword would open its cap and shoot a metal cord where it was aimed and burst through any solid object, then creating a hook so that it wouldn't retract. When clicked again, it would either reel in the object or reel in the person holding the pen, and so Blaine had reeled himself to the ceiling and simply hung there as he watched Santana with wide eyes.

She was slowly tearing apart the room, tossing things everywhere in her haste to find him and after only fifteen seconds gave up and cocked her hip. "Alright hobbit, have it your way. Come down and I promise not to take advantage of you long enough for the interview."

Blaine was not satisfied with this. He quickly threw a pencil at the other side of the room to make a distraction. It clacked against the window sill and Santana ran for it while Blaine jumped down and somersaulted behind the couch. When he heard her sigh he aimed the pen at the front door and was just about to fire it when the door slammed open.

"Tana! I'm home!" Cried the blonde as she skipped in, throwing her coat on the banister that led to the second floor. "Ooh! Were you having a pillow fight without me?" She asked as she viewed the couch in disarray, Blaine nowhere in sight. She pouted, having missed out on such an opportunity.

"No babe, of course not." Santana replied, walking over to Brittany and kissing her on the cheek. "How was work?"

"It was great! I got twelve clients today!"

"Twelve?!" Santana was shocked and Blaine watched from the ceiling yet again, trying to decipher what it was Brittany did for a living if she never graduated high school and wasn't in her file. Brittany nodded vigorously.

"Look how much money I made!" She held out several wads of cash from her purse and Santana's eyes bulged.

"How did you-?"

"They paid extra for some toys." And suddenly, it clicked for Blaine. Brittany was a prostitute. A bit disgusted but not in a judging way, he grimaced. Poor girl, having to resort to such things because of her 0.0 grade point average. "Can we go shopping? Pretty please?"

"Unfortunately not honey, we have a guest."

"Ooh! Is it my dolphin!" Blaine was puzzled to say the least. They owned a pet dolphin?"

"No, he's too busy mourning over his loss." What? Blaine was so confused.

"Oh no! What did he lose? Was it his favourite scarf?"

"No, you know how precarious he is about his scarves. It- it's nothing. Come on, the visitor is playing hide-and-seek and you have to help me find him."

"Yay! But I wish Kurtie was here, because now I miss him because we've been talking about him." Kurtie? Were they talking about Kurt? Why was he a dolphin? What the hell?

"I know you miss him Britt, but he's really busy and hasn't been able to spare us a single glance." Blaine felt the urge to defend the boy who had so much going on in his life at the moment; and to be honest, he didn't blame him for not putting them on the top of his priority list.

"Alright." She sounded disappointed as she helped Santana look for the guy that was hanging above their heads. Giving up on having a sane conversation with them, he placed a recording device that was so small you needed a magnifying glass to see it on the roof and landed perfectly on the balls of his feet, bolting for the front door, picking the lock, leaving the house, and leaping into a nearby bush. He clicked on the app on his phone and listened in to the girls' conversation.

"I dunno San, are you sure you weren't halloweening?"

"Hallucinating, Britt. And no, I am one hundred percent sure he is here. He wouldn't leave without his precious interview, he totally needs it with his case and a good cop would never abandon suspects because of fear." Well, she was technically right...

"So, what did Kurtie lose?"

"Umm... his best friend."

"Mercedes?"

"No. Rachel. They live- er, lived together, remember?"

"Oh yeah! Did she get lost in the mall? I got lost in the mall once, I had to call security but they ended up taking me in for questioning." Blaine scrunched up his eyebrows. What?

"Well, no. But... she's... we're never going to see her again. I mean, I didn't like her but I wouldn't wish de- being lost on anyone." Was she about to say death?

"Yeah. She was an annoying little Jew wasn't she?" Blaine almost blew his cover spluttering on air - almost.

"Yes, well, just less competition I guess. I wonder if she already had stalkers. Broadway stars get stalked all the time right? Maybe they were just scoping out future talent and ki- I mean, making sure they got lost so they wouldn't steal the spotlight... or something like that."

"Is this him?"

"No, that's a stuffed dolphin."

"Oh."

"Oh well, maybe he did leave. Come on, let's clean this place up and then we can get our business done." Santana suggested seductively. Brittany giggled and Blaine quickly shut off his phone, preventing him from hearing anything he didn't want to hear. He sighed. It was back to the hotel for him. He had to avoid Nick and Jeff and examine all the information he had collected that day. Well, he would just have to take a shortcut through the shadows.

**A/N. Please don't hate me for making Brittany a prostitute! But be honest, what other job could Brittany have gotten? Yes, Santana knows and she's Santana, she was ****_practically_**** (notice the italics) a prostitute in high school anyway. It's not actually relevent to the story but they had to make their living somehow! So yeah... you'll see more of them later. I'm not very good at writing characters like Artie, Sue, Santana, and Brittany, but I try. Hopefully it's good enough to please my readers :D Hope you enjoyed! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. Hi guys! I could have sworn that I posted chapter 4 last week :( Sorry! Here's chapter 5 AND 6 to make up for it! Please forgive me! I haven't gotten any complaints from you guys yet so... hopefully you guys aren't mad. So here's chapter 5, and it gives you more insight into Kurt's life instead of Blaine's, though Blaine will probably be the one narrating most of the time. Yeah, Enjoy! :D**

**Disclaimer - I own nothing.**

Chapter 5

Kurt quickly took the subway to NYADA to make it on time for school rehearsals. They had another show that night and there were still improvements to be made, despite how all the students thought it to be perfect, no one wanted to disappoint the strict director and playwright. He missed his Navigator, oh how convenient it was to just be able to hop in whenever he wanted and drive somewhere without all the traffic, not that he didn't love it in New York (he SO did!) but having his own car was just so much more convenient than having to take the time to hail a cab or find a subway station. But he left his beloved car back in Lima because he knew it would be useless in the Big Apple.  
The subway came to a halt and he got off at his stop among the throng of people trying to reach their destinations. He wormed his way through the crowd, weaving in between people of all races, genders, heights, weights, religions, and all others. With his petite body he easily managed to make his way faster than most people to his school campus not a block away. He checked his watch. It read 6:30am. He still had half an hour until rehearsal started, so once he was on school grounds he found a nice bench to be comfy on and took his laptop from his satchel.  
He turned it on and tapped his fingernails against the side of the device, waiting patiently for it to warm up enough to be of any use to him. When it was up and running, he opened a new template labelled "schedule" and began typing in a list of things to plan for Rachel's funeral. A lump rose in his throat at the thought of his best friend who couldn't make it to rehearsal, but he plowed on, shoving his tears back and refusing to show weakness.

TO-DO: R's FUNERAL

He couldn't bring himself to type her name, the pain clenching at his heart yet again. Instead, he simply wrote the first letter of her name.

-Book place&time  
-Buy several flowers: daffodils  
-Hand decorate coffin to suit her  
-Create/Send invites to funeral  
-Find jewish priest if there is such thing  
-Write speech and email all people who may want to speak to prepare something before hand  
-Call all members of old Glee Club to sing at funeral

think of song ideas

-Plan outfit

Kurt then created a new list on the next page and sighed. So much to do. He briefly considered letting Rachel's dads plan the funeral, then went against it. He knew Rachel almost better than Finn did, but his brother was in no state to plan such a thing. It was up to him and even though this was his third funeral and each and every one reminded him of his mother, he knew he was strong enough to withstand it. But this time, it was to someone extremely close to his heart. He prayed to whatever existent or non-existent force out there that no one else he knew would send his heart into such a flurry of pain and emotion.  
To distract his busy mind, he plugged in his earphones and brought up his "woe is me" playlist to listen to as he typed.

GUEST LIST - R's FUNERAL  
-Quinn Fabray  
-Finn Hudson  
-Leroy & Hiram Berry  
-Burt Hummel  
-Carole Hudson  
-Noah Puckerman  
-Santana Lopez  
-Brittany Pierce  
-Artie Abrams  
-Tina Cohen-Chang  
-Mike Chang  
-Mercedes Jones  
-Jesse St. James(?)  
-Matt Rutherford(?)  
-Lauren Zizes(?)  
-Jo Hart(?)  
-Will Schuester & Emma Pilsbury  
-Sue Sylvester(?)  
-Sam Evans  
-Rory Flanagan(?)  
-Sugar Motta(?)  
-Shelby Corcoran & Beth Corcoran

He didn't think he missed anyone, but he put question marks next to the people he wouldn't be sure would come. Some of them were still attending McKinley back in Ohio and others only know Rachel for a short time. Of course, everyone could bring a plus one but they would need to R.S.V.P. him in advance.  
He went to the next page and created a new list.

SONG IDEAS For R'S FUNERAL  
-Blackbird - The Beatles  
-Slipped Away - Avril Lavigne  
-I Miss You - Miley Cyrus  
-Taking Chances - Céline Dion  
-Don't Stop Believeing - Journey  
-Don't Rain On My Parade - Funny Girl  
-I Wanna Hold Your Hand - The Beatles  
-Get It Right - R's Original Song  
-Cry - Kelly Clarkson

By now Kurt truly was crying, thinking of songs that would best suit his best friend. He quickly wiped away his tears and took deep breaths, calming himself down so as not to embarrass himself in front of others. He shut the laptop closed with a snap and quickly made his way to the auditorium to get into costume.  
Once he had applied his make-up, put on his costume, run his lines, sung his lyrics, and practiced his choreography, he marched up onto the stage, as he was in the first scene, waiting for the lights to come up. He got into position next to a girl named Harmony whom he had met briefly at the NYADA open house and who had scared the wits out of Rachel and her dreams of becoming a Broadway star. Kurt squashed those thoughts and memories immediately as the lights came up and the boy across the stage from him said his lines.  
Kurt parried back, easily adapting to his character's snarkiness but at the same time having difficulties not cocking his hip and sending the boy his signature bitch glare that was property of Kurt Hummel and not Arden Frigolo: his character. He was playing a straight guy and it was hard to pretend to ogle at girls when deep down he wanted nothing more than to check out the male leads, but he was apparently convincing enough as the director didn't comment on it.  
They ran through the whole play without many "mistakes" (so the director claims) and soon enough the curtains were drawn and everyone was sent back to their dressing rooms to get ready for class. Classes started at nine and Kurt would be late if he did his full blown skin care routine so he did a shortened version of it and raced through the door, only to almost run over a familiar face that he hadn't seen in almost four months.  
"Ms. Sylvester?"  
"Ah yes, how are you Porcelain?" It felt odd to have the harsh cheerleading coach back in his life after what he thought would be the last he'd ever see of her. She stood tall and proud with short blonde hair and those jumpsuits she always wore. She stared down at him, waiting for an answer. Kurt shifted his satchel to his other shoulder.  
"Fine, you?"  
"Oh I'm just great. Wanna know why?" She threw an arm around the startled boy and began to steer him down the hallway, luckily towards the corresponding building to his first class: Fashion Design.  
"Because of your child?"  
"Because of my child. Always on the ball are you Porcelain? Well, first let me reassure you that that curly-McGel Pants you call a teacher and his fiancée are baby-sitting little Sylvester and you have no need to worry. I just came out of labour two months ago and now I bet you're wondering what I'm doing in here in the NYC. Well let me tell ya, I'm here to send my best regards to one Rachel Berry. Tell me, where can I find her? Down in the fiery pits of Jewish Hell also known as Auschwitz I presume?" Kurt stood there, gaping like a fish. Sue physically closed his mouth for him and wore that signature smirk of hers as she continued to talk. "Don't ask me how I know because my sources will never be revealed though I must say that Becky Jackson is one hell of a receptionist."  
Kurt cleared his throat. "Well, Ms. Sylvester, you are welcome to attend her funeral if you like. I haven't quite decided on the date or place yet but I guarantee I will send out the letters with all the required information on them tonight, so keep an eye out." He told her, praying she'd say no and not come. Sue looked the tiniest bit surprised at being invited instead of having to crash the party herself but she nodded.  
"Well, former-Cheerio-oh-mine, it was nice seeing you again. Tell Frankenteen that his hobbit of a girlfriend had a good run!" She called over her shoulder as she jogged down the hall, leaving a stunned Kurt to watch. After a few seconds of gaping, he shook his head and ran down the hall to try and make it on time to class.  
Even though he loved all his fairly interesting classes, he was distracted all day trying NOT to think about Rachel. He knew that if he simply focused on something he would be able to take his mind off of his best friend, but he knew from experience with his mother that avoiding the subject wouldn't help any. If anything, his break down would just be prolonged and more dramatic at the actual funeral.  
So during fashion and design class he spent his time at the sewing machine, having already designed the perfect outfit. In vocal lessons he belted out Broadway show tunes. In theatre class he poured his heart and soul into his character. He let his emotions turn into that of his character.  
Between classes and at lunch however, he struggled with pushing Rachel from the spotlight of his thoughts. So instead, he thought of the first thing that came to mind : Blaine Anderson. He was much too young to be a police officer, but he did say junior. He appeared to be about seventeen, as if he should still be in high school. Kurt himself was older than him and although Blaine was very handsome, that didn't mean he deserved the role of professional investigator. He seemed to know what he was doing though. He asked questions with the formality of an employer interviewing a future employee.  
He was quite short, a good few inches shorter than Kurt who stood at five foot ten. His hair was smothered in gel and when Kurt first saw it he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it and let it breathe; there was no way that was healthy. His hair needed oxygen almost as much as his lungs did and Kurt was very conscious of hair and skin care as well as fashion. Blaine's wardrobe was rather depressing. Almost everything he wore was black or grey and Kurt would have been surprised if the next time he saw him he wasn't wearing beige because it was too vibrant for him.  
Before he knew it, it was the end of the day and it was back to planning Rachel's funeral. He dreaded the thought of having to attend but quickly set to work to his sad music and sent out the emails to the entire glee club.

Dear All Old Members Of The New Direction,

It pains me to say this, it really does, but I'm afraid our personal star Rachel Berry has passed away at such a young age. Only eighteen, she slipped in the shower and whacked her head, causing immediate death and as of yesterday, she is gone from our lives forever.  
I am inviting all of you to her funeral to take place at Anderberry church in New York on 1479 Tisdale Crescent on November 8th. I would also like to request that we band together and use our powerful voices to serenade her with our good-byes. I have already created a list of possible song choices attached and if you want to sing a solo, feel free but please R.S.V.P. me before November 4th or you will not be booked or expected not to come. You are all allowed to bring a plus one but again, R.S.V.P with that information before November 4th.  
I look forward to seeing you all again despite the circumstances and I send you all my best wishes.

Your Best (And Only) Countertenor,  
Kurt Hummel XOXO

He kept it formal and devoid of all emotion so that he wouldn't break down crying when he wrote down Rachel's name. Almost immediately he received a response from someone. Oh, of course Finn would be the first to get the email.

I think we should sing Get It Right because it reprseents Rachel's struggle with who she is as a person.

Now, this would be incredibly deep and thoughtful of him, if it weren't for the typo that threw everything off balance. Kurt rolled his eyes and put his laptop down. He took out his earphones and walked over to the guest room and knocked on the door.  
"Finn, you know you can just tell me instead of email me right?" No answer. "I only said you had to email me back because everyone else doesn't live here." Still nothing. Kurt opened the door to see an empty bedroom. Confused, Kurt called his brother's name. He was sure he'd seen Finn's phone on the kitchen counter, Finn never went anywhere without his phone. Kurt searched the entire apartment calling the younger boy's name slightly, not wanting to disturb their neighbors. Eventually, there was only one room he hadn't checked: Rachel's room.  
Kurt sucked in a breath, standing two feet away from the door that hadn't been opened in what felt like weeks. He stared at the giant gold star emblazoned on the door at eye level that reminded him so much of her it hurt. He got another lump in his throat and turned the knob, the cold metal sending an electric shock up his arm. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. He was pretty sure his respiration cycle stopped in its tracks.  
The room was exactly the way she'd left it. Laundry was scattered around the room, gold glow in the dark stars were plastered to the ceiling and the walls were painted a light blue that contrasted with her dark mahogany dresser and vanity where a hair brush lay with several of her hairs caught in its bristles. He remembered many a time when the two of them would use their brushes as microphones and sing at the top of their lungs or whisper sing when their neighbors would yell at them to shut up. Her closet was half open and her bed wasn't made.  
It still smelled distinctly like her and when he spotted Finn on her bed cuddling her pillow and inhaling her scent, he couldn't take it anymore and rushed out of the room and down the hall, not bothering with the elevator and running down the stairs. When he finally made it to the lobby he raced across the floor to the public bathrooms (a place no one would ever think to look for him) and began hyperventilating. He couldn't cry now, he couldn't cry now, he couldn't cry now... he repeated over and over in his head like a mantra. He gripped the counter with his pale hands that seemed to grow whiter the tighter his grasp became. He stared at himself in the mirror and could almost visibly see the tears that hadn't yet fallen. His eyes were getting puffier and redder and his breathing was ragged.  
He struggled to calm down and it took him several minutes to return to a somewhat normal composure. He straightened out his shirt and exited the bathroom, satisfied that he hadn't cried. Crying could wait, he had better things to do. Crying wouldn't help anyway, only set him back.  
When he finally returned home, Finn's phone and keys were gone so he had the apartment to himself. Eternally grateful, Kurt plopped down on his bed and fell asleep straight away, snoring every so slightly - not that he would ever admit it.


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. Hi! Here's chapter 6, and in here you guys get some Klaine fluff yay! And then we also get some Brittana :D I hope you guys like the way I portray my characters, but how would I know? Oh wait, reviews! :P Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer - I don't own anything you recognize**

Chapter 6

The next day, Blaine dedicated to research and technology as well as training. To be a spy, he had to remain very physically fit which required training a minimum of twenty hours a week. He woke up bright and early (about one in the morning) and broke into the pool with Nick and Jeff so that they could swim laps and exercise before anyone woke up. The morning was spent in tense silence as Blaine was glared at by his fellow spies who accused him of being too young for such a risky mission, even though the mission itself was only searching and erasing. They swam circles around each other without vocalizing their anger towards one another despite the icy cold stares and "accidental" shoves into the pool. About six hours later, they locked the door and turned the security cameras back on, making sure that they were "never there".

Eventually, Nick - always the calmer of the two - spoke up when they reached Blaine's room. "Blaine, I'm sorry." Blaine stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel so that he was standing in the doorway facing the hallway where Nick and Jeff stood.

"Excuse me?" He was shocked, and to be honest, he didn't believe him one bit.

"I am sorry for Jeff bringing up your past. That was out of line but the fact that you are too young is still up for discussion."

"Nick, if it's a fact then it is NOT up for discussion." Jeff spat with his arms crossed and glaring at Blaine. "You are much too young for this mission and you are too friendly with the potential suspects."

"Well excuse me if for the first time in my life I get to talk to someone normal! Someone who's my age and isn't involved in all this spy business!" Blaine yelled back. Nick looked to the surveillance cameras that lined the walls of the hallway and nodded his head in the gesture of Blaine's room and he grudgingly let him in, slamming the door behind them.

"If they are suspects than they could potentially be involved in said 'spy business'!" Jeff pointed out while yelling and putting air quotes around the words "spy business".

"Well maybe I'm sick and tired of you people treating me like I'm a kid when I've gone through the exact same things as you! Maybe I just wanted to get away from your constant scolding and screaming and just focus something else like getting Kurt to open up to me about Rachel!" Blaine didn't know why he singled out Kurt's name instead of maybe Finn's or Santana's, but he couldn't take it back now.

"You're already calling them by their first names! Everyone should be addressed as Mr. Ms. or Mrs. or you'll risk getting too close to them!"

"Well I don't give a damn!" Blaine screamed back, anger pouring out of his ears in the form of cartoon-ish steam. His vision was being tinted with red and his fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. Jeff was in a similar state, teeth gritted and nostrils flaring while towering over the small agent. Thad stood passively to the side, observing the scene with interest.

"Well that's just too damn bad because WE are in charge of this mission and YOU are simply a little kid trying to gain experience without passing his final examination!"

"Don't you think being in the field is better than some virtual game?"

"It's about as real a mission as you are ever going to get so I suggest you enjoy it!"

"Why can't you treat me as an equal! Why am I any different than Nick?"

"Because you are too young and inexperienced and you could get hurt-"

"Bullshit! You wouldn't care if I got hurt!"

"Wes would care!"

"Oh so you're allowed to use first names but I'm not?"

"He- I- Shut up!"

"Nice come back Jeff." Blaine spat. He whispered the next part, though his rage remained at the same level. "If this has anything to do about my sexuality, I will have you know-"

"Wait what?" It was Nick who interrupted him this time, staring at him with wide blue eyes. Jeff looked just as shocked. "You're gay?"

"Yeah." Blaine replied, seething.

"Oh." And then there was silence. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose and took deep breaths and Blaine wanted nothing more than to smash his face while his eyes were closed but he managed to restrain himself by clenching his fists even tighter, causing blood to trickle down from his palms. Remembering that this wasn't his room and that he shouldn't stain the carpet, he spat his next words.

"Get out." Jeff looked about to protest but Nick shut him up with a glare and yanked him by the elbow out of the room, not looking back. Jeff simply narrowed his eyes at the teenager and left without another word, slamming the door behind him. Blaine counted to ten then screamed. He screamed his frustration and his anger and he just wanted to punch something - so he did. He punched the wall and his fist made a large dent. He'd used the same hand that was bleeding before and he screamed again, this time in pain. He grunted and trudged to the bathroom, running his hands under the sink before applying more bandages.

Once that was done, he fixed the wall so that he hadn't left a trace. It was one of his requirements as a spy to be able to erase all traces of ever being in a place. He could erase all records of anything and everything to make it look like he - or anyone else - had never existed. On this particular mission, that was Nick's job: to erase all articles written about Rachel's murder before they were released to the public and make sure it was kept as secretive as possible; also known as the Deleter. Only Kurt, Finn, Leroy, and Hiram would know that she was actually murdered. No one else could know, only that she passed away. They could say she died so many ways, accidentally stabbing herself in the kitchen, house fire, drowning, car crash, devastating fall, but she could never be murdered. Because his job was so short, Thad would only be staying for a week before returning to Westerville to HeadQuarters.

Jeff's job was to take the information Blaine had accumulated from the suspects and/or witnesses and put it to use to try and track down the group of skanks. Each night he would sneak out and investigate any and all clues he had been given and so far he'd turned up with nothing. He would be sticking with Blaine for the remainder of the three months or until they managed to track down the skanks, whichever came first.

Blaine's job (the Gatherer) was to gather information from the suspects and witnesses as well as family and/or friends of the victim to receive clues in order to give to Jeff: the Tracker. He needed to go see Brittany and Santana again whether he liked it or not, and if he got molested along the way it was a risk he was willing to take - albeit hesitantly. He also knew (from spying) that Kurt had invited a bunch of people to Rachel's funeral, and if they were all coming than they had to be close to her, which meant he had to interview them all. This process was painstakingly slow, but one of the most effective as he got it straight from the source.

First on his list was Leroy Berry, and then Hiram Berry. They were her fathers and knew her better than probably anyone. They were also gay and Blaine was curious to see what a gay couple looked like. He had never seen one at the agency and there were seldom any straight couples because only a few girls worked as spies but the ones who didn't came to visit their boyfriends/husbands. Blaine found it sickening how happy they could be when he had never even met a gay guy.

The only reason he knew he was gay was because he'd had a crush on Wes before and when confronted about it, admitted it openly and didn't realize at the time that being gay meant he was different from everyone else. He was raised in a completely different environment than most kids were used to and no one knew how to react to his liking other boys. Wes was as close to a parental figure as Blaine had ever had, and because he was the subject of Blaine's crush that made things very awkward between them, but that was years ago and they had both moved on from it, leaving it all in the past.

Blaine leaped back onto his bed and drifted off to sleep. Having six hours of work out when you were supposed to be resting was wreaking havoc on his mind and body and he still needed to calm down from his anger break down. He took deep breaths, and before he knew it, he was asleep.

GLEE!

Later that day found Blaine perusing Barney's: Rachel's most visited store (according to her file). Halloween decorations littered the floor, racks, walls, ceiling, shelves, banisters, everything. The spy fiddled with a thin wooden witch poised on a stick who was grinning evilly. He made his way through the winding aisles of the store, discreetly memorizing every security camera that he would have to dismantle, how the sound of his footsteps echoed across the store in record time, the exact layout of each aisle so as not to need sight to know where he was going. He counted every single air vent (seven) that were big enough for him to crawl through and he paid close attention to anyone in the uniform of the store, analyzing their personalities for future reference and keeping his eyes on the pair of keys the manager had just bestowed upon his newest employee who nodded eagerly, ecstatic to be given some responsibility.

Blaine was never taken off guard, so when Kurt walked up behind him and said, "Fancy seeing you here." he pretended to jump, to have been scared by his "unknown" presence. Blaine turned and was met with the sight of the boy who'd recently had a devastating loss, yet he refused to show it. Had Blaine not been so excruciatingly observant, he would not have noticed how his glasz eyes were grey and cloudy, practically foggy compared to the other day when they were a mix between green and blue, a confusion of what to feel.

"Kurt, don't do that!" He cried, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Why he felt the need to be so happy around a boy he barely knew, he might never comprehend. What he did know, was that he was grateful for the vacation from all his anger at his fellow spies.

Kurt looked a bit smug as a smirk placed itself upon his face. "Sorry. But let me cut to the chase. I've seen your wardrobe, what are you doing here?" He waved his arms around them, gesturing towards the racks among racks of designer clothing. Not even the least bit insulted, Blaine smiled. He couldn't let him know what he was doing, it could possibly jeopardize the mission, and although he had only known Kurt for a short time, his gut instinct told him that this was someone he could trust. Despite that, he remained loyal to his "family" and lied.

"I'm buying a present for my sister." He said, the lie flowing naturally down his tongue. He cursed his ability to lie so convincingly, to be able to deceive others and make them trust him with truth whilst he told anything but, was not something he was proud of. "Her birthday's coming up." He shrugged, trying to make it look nonchalant but he managed to pick up how Kurt's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"How soon?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"November first." He replied smoothly. Kurt's excitement was building and Blaine wanted to know why.

"How old is she?"

"She's going to turn twenty."

"And her style?"

Blaine had never been asked that question before. It was always, "Name, description, personality, hobbies," things like that. Never had anyone tested him on his knowledge of what clothing she wore. Never the less, he responded immediately. "I have no clue."  
Kurt seemed to deflate the tiniest bit but he was not deterred. He waved a hand as if to shoo the thought away like a fly. "No matter. I am the master at gift giving. Need a hand?" Blaine knew he would be going against David and Thad's wishes by hanging out so casually with one of the potential suspects, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling - truly smiling, for the first time in his life - and nodding.

"Sure." It was out of his mouth before he could take it back and he didn't know what to think of the coming events. He had never been shopping before, he only knew that the fridge didn't stock itself. Of course he knew that money was required to make transactions and purchases and such, but never had he experienced such a teenage common... thing. It seemed as though Kurt had had plenty though.

"Great!" He grabbed Blaine by the elbow, much like Thad had done to David that morning but much less angry and flustered and more in rushed excitement, and led him towards the women's section. "So, tell me about your sister. What's her name?"

"Viola." Blaine chose the name from his favourite Shakespearean comedy: Twelfth Night. He always wondered if Shakespeare chose to make Olivia and Viola's names practically the same, only rearranged on purpose or if it was just a coincidence. Kurt nodded, listening intently, eyes shining.

"Pretty name. If only we could get her an Orsino, than it would be perfect. But alas, if we could give soul mates I'm pretty sure we'd all be living happily ever after pretty easily and what's the fun in that?" Kurt sighed dreamily while Blaine could do nothing but watch. Kurt had obviously read Twelfth Night and he was about to immerse himself in conversation with that topic when Kurt squealed. Yes, squealed. Instead of being freaked out by this, he simply thought it was endearing as Kurt picked up a nice blouse from the rack that even Blaine had to admit was nice.

"It's nice." He commented, sticking his hands in his coat pockets and clasping his hidden spy gadgets through the fabric of his leather gloves. Kurt gaped at him, eyes wide.

"Nice? Nice? This is Marc Jacobs. THE Marc Jacobs! It's absolutely fabulous! Look at that neckline! It's perfect and if her skin tone has any resemblance to yours whatsoever than the colour will complement her complexion wonderfully..." As Kurt droned on about things Blaine had never heard of before, he found himself staring at Kurt's face. It was a trick to make it look like you were listening when you weren't that he had learned at a very young age. He simply had to observe the details of one's visage.

Kurt's eyes had changed colour again and were now a vibrant cerulean, his long black eyelashes blinking ever so often. His nose was adorned with freckles that spread themselves across his cheekbones and his skin was so pale you could compare its colour to porcelain china or maybe ivory, so delicate and beautiful, but Kurt was not dishware. Looks could be deceiving. It was the most enforced lesson at the academy where he had learned all of his spy training. Kurt could still be a potential suspect.

"I know that look, you're tuning me out aren't you?" Kurt interrupted his thoughts and his bubble of thinking popped almost visibly.

"I-" Blaine started, but Kurt held up a hand to stop him from speaking further. He put the blouse back on the rack and turned to him, hand on his cocked hip.

"It's just like in school where the kids are always staring at the teachers and pretending to listen when really their heads are in the clouds. I've had that look many times in French class so don't even try to deny it mister." He poked Blaine in the chest with a smug look on his face. Blaine was so embarrassed he had been caught red-handed, he found his body doing something he didn't want it to (nor ever thought it would) do: he blushed. Flustered, he changed the topic almost immediately.

"Fine, you caught me. But I can't help but wonder how you know so much about clothes." He asked, actually interested in listening.

"I take pride in my fashion sense. Besides my dad, it's the only thing that's ever been one hundred percent there for me at all times. It reflects who I am and I want to show it off because I'm proud of myself. And I know that sounds incredibly self-centered but believe me, that is not my intention. Not to say that it isn't true at times..." he shrugged and turned back to racks. "What size is she?"

"What about your mom?" Blaine completely ignored Kurt's question and pressed on with the subject before it.

"I'm sorry?" Kurt seemed taken aback and confused, staring at him with a weird look on his face that was completely unfamiliar to Blaine.

"You said that besides your dad, clothing is the only thing that's been there for you. What about your mom?" As soon as Blaine asked the question, Kurt's eyes darkened again and he regretted asking. He tried backtracking. "Not that it's any of my business of course, but... just curious." And none of this relevant to the case whatsoever... he thought. He needed to learn more about Rachel and spending time with Kurt could do just that.

"Well, she was always so loving and would have been there for me always, had she not died when I was eight." Kurt admitted, staring at the ground and fidgeting with the khaki green scarf he wore around his neck. Blaine felt sympathy wash over him like a tidal wave as he practically felt the sadness radiating off of Kurt, but in a flash it was gone and he was bright and happy again. "So yeah, she was always there for me but clothing still is here, you know? Anyway, what size is your sister?"

Blaine needed to turn the conversation on Rachel somehow, not wanting to mess with Kurt's personal life too much. "Um, I don't know actually. She's rather short, like me. I think she's about Rachel's size." As soon as he said that, Kurt was facing away from him and speed-walking towards the part of the store with Rachel's sizes that he obviously knew so well. It hadn't occurred to Blaine before, but perhaps the reason Rachel shopped here so much was because of Kurt and his keen fashion sense, if so then she would most likely come here with Kurt. More sympathy washed over the spy as he followed the university boy in front of him.

When they made it to the correct section, Kurt immediately began searching and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Her death was just too recent to think about too much. "And her eyes are hazel, like yours I assume?"

"Mmhm."

Not two minutes later, Kurt had assembled an entire outfit while Blaine finished his inspection of the store. Kurt folded the clothes and headed towards the cash register with Blaine in tow. He laid it down on the counter and smiled at the girl behind it.

"Hey Maria." He greeted, and all Blaine could think was, What's with the Twelfth Night references today? as Maria's heart shaped face brightened when she saw him.

Blaine took in her appearance, deeming her another suspect in Rachel's murder and therefore crucial to interview later - but not in front of Kurt, that would just be... awkward. The girl had long blonde waves that cascaded down her back and almost neon blue eyes that reflected her happy nature. Her nose was small and her eyebrows were blonde and thin. Her eyelashes were incredibly long and fake and she wore quite a bit of makeup, but not too much. Just a dab of colour of her lips and eyes and some foundation. She wore the traditional Barney's uniform and stood at a height just short of Kurt. She carried herself like a teen though she appeared to be about twenty-five. There was an engagement ring on her finger with a huge diamond in the center and Blaine briefly wondered if the skanks robbed things for themselves to wear instead of selling them for money.

"Hiya Kurt. Where's Rachel? Normally, you two are joined at the hip." She looked down at his purchases and missed the tortured look on the countertenor's face but he managed to mask it just before she looked back up from scanning the items. Blaine had seen it though, and his stomach churned, finding himself wanting to do something he had never had the urge to do: he wanted to comfort someone. He wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and let him cry out all the sorrows he tried so desperately to hide and tuck away Before he could ponder why he would feel such a way, Maria spoke again. "Oh, is this for her? Because I'm sure she'd love it. It's better than all those animal sweaters and plaid skirts she always wears. Where does she get them? The GAP? No, even the GAP has more fashion sense than that." She laughed like pair of bells ringing just a tad too high a pitch.

"I'm pretty sure she gets them from everywhere. A sweater from a garage sale, a pair of socks from the GAP, a pair leggings from the trash, you know how it is." Blaine raised an eyebrow. Rachel's death hadn't been mentioned and he certainly didn't want to be the one to do it, but it felt odd to talk about someone who no longer existed as if she was still walking around somewhere, doing whatever it is she does.

Maria laughed again and bagged the items as Blaine took out his wallet and tried not to let his eyes bug out of his head at the price. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it, the spy organization (of which he STILL hasn't figured out the name of and it was starting to get on his nerves having to call it "the spy organization" all the time) had more than an enough to go around. He handed over the required amount of money and took the bag from Maria who had only just noticed he was there.

"Oh! I didn't see you there! I thought Kurt was buying this, silly me! I'm Maria." She stuck out her hand for Blaine to shake and he did so. "Any friend of Kurt's is a friend of mine." She winked and he didn't know what to do, so he just nodded and introduced himself.

"Blaine Anderson."

Maria looked back to Kurt. "He's dapper. I like him. I approve." Blaine tilted his head and Kurt flushed a deep red.

"It's not like that Maria, I barely know him." he responded, his voice just a tad higher than it should be. Blaine wondered why. Maria winked at Kurt. Winking seemed to be a little bit of a habit for her.

"Right, sure. Have fun getting to know each other." She said and waved them goodbye as they left the store. They walked into the cool afternoon air together as if it was natural, as if they had done it several times before. Blaine wondered why they hadn't said goodbye yet just as Kurt began to speak.

"I know, I know. I should have told her about Rachel's death but it was so nice just to pretend, you know? As if it never happened, like she was simply busy and couldn't come with me instead of being in a morgue."

Blaine's stomach twisted itself into a knot and he fought hard not to clutch at it while they walked along the sidewalk. He felt partly guilty for the sadness that Kurt was going through as well as everyone who knew Rachel and of course, the victim herself. If it weren't for the skanks feud with his spy organization, then they wouldn't have attacked someone they thought was in cahoots with them. Feeling the need to make it up to Kurt, Blaine took his hand and began to run down the sidewalk at an acceptable pace for Kurt to keep up with.

"Wha-? Blaine! Where are we going? Blaine!" Kurt tried to stop him half-heartedly, but he knew it was no use and simply followed along; he was curious to see where the boy was taking him. If he was being honest with himself, he was enjoying the tingly feeling of having Blaine's hand in his, holding on tightly in a way that made him never want him to let go. As their feet slightly pounded against the cement, the wind blew softly through Kurt's hair and he immediately felt self-conscious about it, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew how much his complaining about his hair could annoy others and he didn't want to irritate Blaine.

After a little while of running, they came upon a large grassy hill right smack in the middle of New York City. Kurt gaped at it, wondering how on Earth Blaine had managed to find such a rural place. "How did you-?"

"Google Earth." he replied, lying yet again. He had used Artie's high-tech satellite device just as they started running. He had been fumbling inside his pocket all the while running in the direction the signals sent him. He tugged Kurt up the hill, their hands were still grasping each other as they made it to the top and neither wanted to relinquish the feeling that made both of their hearts race just a bit faster. Kurt gasped when he saw what Blaine had deemed appropriate for forgiveness.

The view was beautiful. There was a large expanse of bright blue water that separated them from the Statue of Liberty, reigning tall and green over the city. The skyscrapers and modern buildings were simply background as several boats waded through the sparkling waters that reflected the sun's beautiful glow and warmth. The wind tugged slightly at their clothes and the sounds of the city that never sleeps flowed on the breeze, letting it be carried to both of their ears.

"Wow." was all Kurt could manage to say as Blaine let go of his hand, blushing furiously. "You know, I've never seen the Statue of Liberty up close." Kurt muttered, breathless. Blaine was about to respond when the wet grass underneath his feet couldn't hold anymore traction and his feet flew out from under him. Kurt reached out to grab him on instinct but Blaine ignored it and calmly arched his back to catch himself in a sort of bridge formation before kicking his legs over and performing a back-handspring. Kurt stared at him with wide eyes and Blaine blushed again, landing a bit further down the hill and rather close to the freezing waters below that threatened to lap at his shoes. He hadn't meant to reveal such athletic abilities to anyone, and yet here he was, showing off when he could have just fallen in.

"Um, I took martial arts when I was younger." He explained/lied. It wasn't technically a lie... he still took martial arts; all of them to be exact. Kurt just shook his head and stepped closer to him, clutching his jacket closed with one hand, his other still stretched out towards him, his fingers bent to grab his arm to catch him from falling. Realizing his arm had frozen, Kurt lowered it so that it hung limply at his side.

"Interesting. It looked more like gymnastics to me." He said. He raised an eyebrow and when Blaine gave him a look of confusion that read, "Care to elaborate?" he shrugged. "I used to be a cheerleader. I know gymnastics when I see it." The countertenor admitted, praying that the other boy wouldn't judge him. His cheeks flushed the cutest pink Blaine had ever seen and his averted his gaze for a few seconds before regaining his confidence and staring directly at the undercover spy who stood before him.

Blaine was trying very hard to process the information he had been given without letting his emotions be displayed across his face. He had never taken gymnastics but he supposed that martial arts had to get their balance and grace from somewhere. He also tried not to imagine Kurt in a cheerleading uniform while dancing with a bunch of girls in matching uniforms and short skirts. The mental image practically shook his brain like it was a phone on vibrate and he felt the need to squirm just a bit. He would ask himself why his body was reacting that way later, at the moment he needed to focus on formulating a response. He literally shook the thoughts from his mind like a dog trying to dry itself after a bath and changed the subject - again.

"Kurt, there's something Maria said that's been bothering me." He admitted, staring deep into those lovely blue eyes, almost searching. Immediately, Kurt jumped to conclusions (albeit logical conclusions but he jumped none the less).

"Don't worry about her innuendos, their harmless." He waved it off and Blaine waved it off, not knowing what he was talking about.

"Not that. She said, 'any friend of Kurt's is a friend of mine'. Is that what we are? Are we friends?" The question shocked Kurt and it was written all over his face, what with his open mouth and eyes slightly widened. He snapped his jaw shut after a second and fixed him with a penetrating gaze, trying to read what answer he thought Blaine would want him to say. Too bad Blaine was the opposite of an open book when it came to trying to decipher his thoughts. Giving up, Kurt treaded carefully with his next sentence.

"Um, depends. What's your definition of friend?" He asked hesitantly, voice taking on a strangely lower pitch as he turned his head to the side just so.

Blaine had to think about that. He didn't know. He'd never had a friend before. He wouldn't count Wes and Artie as friends or even Nick or Jeff. He was probably closer to Kurt than any of them and that alone was the single most scary thing he'd ever had to face. Never mind all the bullets and the physical pain and the fear and the anger, it was the unknown that scared him. It was probably the only thing that scared him. Becoming friends with a stranger who was a possible suspect for murder was completely new territory, but he wanted to take that risk. He found a part of him (a very dominant part) wanted to get to know Kurt, to trust him and talk to him. Except, now Kurt's standing there in front of him, the breeze gently blowing his chestnut hair and his eyes boring into him; this unintentionally caused Blaine's stomach to grow tiny butterflies. Under Kurt's kind gaze, he blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"I'd like to be your friend." He had avoided the question, but had answered his own. He and Kurt were going to be friends - unless Kurt was against that. Blaine was suddenly filled with apprehension and nerves as he anxiously awaited Kurt's response, shifting from foot to foot impatiently despite the fact that he had spoken mere seconds before. What an emotional rollercoaster. But Blaine hadn't been angry, and that was an improvement in itself. He was always angry, except when he was with Kurt. He couldn't help but wonder why.

"I'd like that too." Kurt confessed quietly, and he smiled and Blaine mirrored it, enjoying how the emotion felt on his face. He could get used to being happy. It was better than wanting to hit something or someone all the time.

"So what's your definition of a friend?" Blaine asked as they sat down together on the mossy green hill overlooking the water by some unspoken mutual agreement. Kurt looked deep in thought as his eyes trailed over the boats that floated around several hundred meters away. He took a little while to answer, and Blaine was patient enough to wait, content with observing him. Taking in every breath, every strand of hair, every flaw, every freckle, every pore; he wanted the image of his first and probably last friend to forever be imprinted in his brain. Finally, Kurt spoke in a calm and confident manner.

"Well, someone who's there for you. Someone you can trust and hang out with and be totally relaxed and confident with. Someone who, even when they aren't there, can comfort you when you're upset. But there is a difference between friends and best friends. Best friends have complete and total trust in one another; never any secrets, never any tension or awkwardness. A bit of teasing, the occasional fight. Total comfort around each other, no awkwardness, no hesitance, just... natural. Everything's natural around that other person or best friend." Blaine could tell Kurt was thinking about Rachel, but from the look in his eyes he was also talking about someone else. Finn maybe? Blaine hadn't seen Kurt in his own environment much, and he found himself wishing to experience it himself.

"How do you tell the difference between your best friend and your soul mate?" The question was out before he'd had a chance to process what he had just said. Before he could even apologize for being so blunt, Kurt was starting to answer, not fazed in the least. His cheeks did colour a bit though.

"Sometimes you can't. Falling in love with your best friend is possibly the best thing that can ever happen to a person, because they already know all your secrets and dreams and wishes, there's basically no need for dating because dating is to get to know someone. You can often love a best friend without feeling the need to marry them or kiss them, but the love for them is almost as strong."

"Almost?"

"I like to think that the bond between lovers is strong enough to overcome anything. That no matter how many times they fight or get into trouble, love with always come through in the end. True love, that is."

"And you know this by experience?" Blaine felt his heart pang painfully and suddenly in his chest, but he ignored it. He'd felt much worse pain than this, though nothing similar. It was probably the guilt of not being able to be completely trustworthy to Kurt. He wouldn't be able to tell him all of his deepest darkest secrets, wouldn't be able to hang out with him like Rachel did. He had no experience whatsoever in the friend department, but he wanted to earn some, even if after his three months of being in New York were up and he might never see Kurt ever again. It would be worth it.

Kurt shook his head, looking down at his knees and curled himself up into a ball. "I've never even had a boyfriend." The conversation ended abruptly as Kurt waited for a response, but none came. Blaine was utterly shocked and he couldn't keep his eyes from widening or his jaw from dropping. Kurt Hummel had done the impossible - he had shocked Blaine Anderson, junior spy extraordinaire. Kurt broke the silence. "If you're homophobic you can just leave now." He whispered, again jumping to the conclusion that Blaine would just get up and leave. In that one moment, Blaine could see that Kurt had a tormented past, one where he was used to being treated like once someone got too close to him, they would abandon him - hurt him even.

Blaine was rooted to the spot. Kurt was gay. Blaine was friends with another gay teen. He couldn't have been happier. He was finally getting the chance to live a somewhat more normal life than before and he was going to take any chance he could get his hands on. He immediately felt the need to support the boy next to him, and sidled up a bit closer. He placed a hand on his shoulder and Kurt flinched. Blaine frowned. What had happened to him? What kind of traumatic past did he have?

"Not at all. I'm gay too." At this, Kurt's head snapped up so fast it cracked a couple times. His eyes were wide and they shone with... was that hope? Or maybe it was shock. Blaine could normally read people like an open book, but Kurt was just a bit more complex, and a bit more distracting.

"Really? I never would have guessed." He shook his head in disbelief, but then gave a megawatt smile and Blaine would be happy forever if he could make that smile light up the city every day. His friend was beautiful. Wait, what? He thought, shocking himself.

"Well," Blaine got up, brushing off grass stains and helping Kurt to his feet, feeling the heat of their touch even through his leather gloves. "I'm sorry to say that I must be leaving." He could have sworn he saw Kurt's face fall in that one moment, but when he blinked it was as it was before. Was that the result of years of acting experience or had he really just imagined it? He shrugged it off. They exchanged phone numbers and went off in their separate directions. It was almost five, and Blaine needed to wait until it became very dark to break into Barney's, so he decided to head back to Santana and Brittany's house, regretting it almost instantly.

After getting a cab to the location, he stood in front of the house for what seemed like an eternity. Unfortunately, it wasn't long enough for night to fall and he sighed. He didn't want to do this, but it wasn't like he had a choice. He mustered up his courage and walked up to the old-fashioned door. He raised a hand in a fist and knocked three times. It was orderly and professional, the way he had been taught, the way he was used to. He stood there for a few seconds before the sounds of feet pounding down the stairs could be heard and he braced himself for the onslaught that was Santana.

The door was thrown open and there stood Brittany. Blaine almost sighed in relief - almost. Santana could still be home. Brittany cocked her head as her blue eyes took him in. Blaine stared back. The silence was getting to him and he cleared his throat. Brittany's eyes lit up and she came to life, as if the sound had activated a robot that was asleep.

"Who are you?" She asked, still holding the door with one hand and leaning on her left foot more than the right.

"I'm junior officer Blaine Anderson from the New York Police Department." He flashed his badge. "I'm here to interview Miss. Brittany Pierce and Miss. Santana Lopez." He explained, hoping she understood and he wouldn't have to explain again. The girl nodded and stepped to the side allowing him inside.

"Santana told me about you! She said you were super smexy." Blaine walked in and was about to take his coat off when he heard the comment. The door slammed shut behind him and he suddenly had the urge to keep his coat on. He settled for unbuttoning it but otherwise leaving it the way it was.

"Yes, well, I am not here for... that. I am here to ask you two questions about the death of Rachel Berry." Brittany's eyes widened and Santana came pounding down the stairs in only a towel and dripping wet, oblivious to Blaine's presence.

"Britt! Who was at the door? Was it the mai-" She stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the floor to stare appreciatively at the spy who restrained himself from shifting uncomfortably under her wandering gaze. He cleared his throat again and her grip on her towel loosened just a smidge. "Well, hello again. I knew you'd be back. They always come back." She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and winked at him. He rolled his eyes and hers flashed. But before either could do anything, Brittany interrupted.

"San?" The person in question turned to her room mate, all traces of anger gone. Blaine's gaydar was going off slightly, but he ignored it.

"Yes, Britt?"

"This guy says Rachel's dead. Is-is that true?" She asked quietly, sniffling. Santana's eyes widened and she glared daggers at Blaine who didn't react. He remained rigid by the closet and shoe rack, watching the scene unfold before him. Santana was obviously furious with him as she stomped in his direction.

"You told her WHAT?!" She screamed, whipping her head a bit and sending drops of water splashing everywhere. Before Blaine had time to react, Brittany sobbed and Santana immediately abandoned the guy in favour of wrapping her arms around the crying blonde. She quietly hummed to her and spoke in hushed whispers, rocking her back and forth and rubbing her back soothingly. Every now and then she glared at Blaine and he had to admit that it was damn scary, but he refused to give her a reaction. He couldn't let his guard down like he did with Kurt , he had to remain emotionless - at least on the outside.

"Is it true?" Brittany asked again after having calmed down a bit. Santana bit her lip, trying to decide between telling her the harsh reality or the cushioned lie.

"Yes." She whispered and Brittany looked down at her hands, examining them. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"Is Lord Tubbington dead too?" Santana's eyes widened as Brittany came to that conclusion. The Latina simply nodded her head hesitantly. Brittany sighed. "Why did you lie to me?" The question broke Santana's heart and she stared deep into the ditzy blonde's eyes, hoping to portray her only good intentions.

"Brittany, I... I didn't lie. He is lost, just... lost in heaven. Like Rachel." She tried to explain, tilting her chin up to face her. Blaine watched solemnly. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen. He had turned the recording bug back on a while ago.

"Did Rachel die of drugs like Lord Tubbington?" Brittany asked, seemingly over Santana's "betrayal". The Latina shook her head. Blaine thought this would be a good time to intervene.

"If you ladies will excuse the interruption, but would you mind if I questioned you about Miss Berry?" He avoided mentioning her death in case more drama unfolded before him like a TV show. There was silence for the longest time, until finally, Santana nodded.

"Excellent." Santana had an arm around Brittany and led her to the couch, still sopping wet. Blaine sat down on the recliner adjacent to them and reached inside his coat pocket for his recorder. He turned it on and placed it on the coffee table. Both girls stared at it suspiciously.

"Could you not use that thing? It's giving me the creeps." Santana barked, narrowing her eyes at the blinking object while Brittany stared at it uncomprehendingly. Blaine tried not to judge them as he took back the piece of technology and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Alright, and feel free to change into some clothes Miss Lopez." He pointed out, nodding at her white towel that functioned as a dress. Santana smirked and leant back a bit, not making a move to get up. Blaine pursed his lips before continuing. "Okay then, let's get started. All questions will be directed at the both of you and either of you may answer. Everything you say is being recorded and can be put on a criminal record if such words are offensive." Santana's eyes widened and Blaine couldn't help the little twitch at the corner of his mouth that looked like a smirk.

"Are you a dolphin?" Brittany inquired, staring at him pointedly. Blaine blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"A dolphin. You know, a gay shark." She elaborated. "Like Kurt." Blaine's eyebrows shot up. Did she mean to ask if he was gay? Is that what she meant by gay shark? It would explain what he had heard when eavesdropping on them the other day...

"Why do you ask?" Avoiding the question: annoying yet effective.

"Because my gaydar is going off the graphs!" She announced proudly. Before Blaine could respond, Santana stepped in.

"Charts, honey. Your gaydar is going off the charts." She patted the blonde's arm and then linked their pinkies as the Latina crossed her legs and stared at Blaine. Brittany simply nodded in understanding.

"Well, if you must know then yes. I am gay. But back to the topic at hand-" Blaine was interrupted by Brittany.

"Are you single?" She blurted. No one batted an eyelash.

"That is none of your business Miss Pierce."

"But I want to know!"

"Well too bad!" Blaine's temper was starting to rise and he didn't want to be angry around the two girls - who knew what he would do?

"Damn! All the good-looking ones are either taken or gay, or both." She raked her eyes up and down his body appreciatively yet again and he refused to shiver. Ignoring the weirdness he was currently experiencing, he tried to finally start with his questions.

"Where were you on the night of October twenty seventh two thousand and twelve?" He asked, his pen poised above the paper. There was a bit of silence and Blaine immediately marked it as suspicious.

"At a bar." Santana answered hesitantly. Blaine nodded and scribbled on the notepad with blue ink. The scratching noises of pen against paper were the only sounds in the room. The atmosphere had very quickly gone tense. It was an atmosphere that Blaine was used to. You could say he was even comfortable in that type of situation, because it was one he was familiar with.

"Which one?"

"Don't Stop."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't Stop. That's the name of the bar."

"And the two of you were there?"

"Yes."

"At precisely ten o'five, where were you?" He asked, searching their faces for clues that led to them lying. He found none... yet. Santana scrunched up her nose in concentration and Blaine was glad she was starting to take this seriously.

"I was screwing some guy." She finally said and Blaine nearly choked on his own spit - nearly. He hadn't moved an inch, but on the inside he was internally backing away from her. Santana shrugged and looked to Brittany who had to give her answer. The blonde hadn't answered any of the questions up until that point.

"I don't remember." Santana's eyes flickered to Blaine briefly before letting her gaze rest on her roommate. Blaine wrote that down, creating indents on the papers behind his current one as he put pressure on it with his pen.

"Come on, babe. Think hard." Santana urged and Blaine raised an eyebrow. Were they a couple? They seemed close enough. Santana was NAKED for goodness sakes. Then again... Blaine appeared comfortable as well, even though on the inside he was anything but. Brittany's face remained passive as she thought.

"I think I was in the bathroom." She finally answered, looking straight into Blaine's hazel eyes. Her gaze was filled with nothing but honesty, but he wasn't done yet.

"Have either of you two noticed Rachel behaving suspiciously as of late?" He asked, not looking up from his notepad to see their shocked faces. He had used her first name, as if he himself had known her; and yet, his tone wasn't sad in the least. It was monotone. Santana held up a finger signaling for him to wait a moment, before turning to the side and sneezing - right onto the second bug he had installed earlier. Was that on purpose? It seemed accidental enough... but not everything was as it seems...

"Rachel's always been a bitch so we haven't seen her in a little while. The four of us hang out occasionally but never one on one. We came to her opening night performance on the twenty sixth but didn't actually talk to her. So no. I haven't." Santana replied confidently. Blaine could find no traces of lies anywhere. They were either really good liars, or they had nothing to do with the murder of Rachel Berry. Still, he needed answers, clues, hints, SOMETHING. So far, all he had was a mysterious man in a pea coat using the phone and being rude to people. He needed more.

"Kurt, Rachel, and me went shopping at Victoria Secret the other day." Brittany announced. Blaine's eyebrows shot up. Kurt may have been gay, but shopping in a women's lingerie store? Granted he was with two other women but... there were no buts. Blaine refused to judge him. He looked at her expectantly, not letting himself get his hopes up towards finding clues. "Kurtie bought me this really lacy piece that he said Santana would love." At this, Santana purred and Blaine tried desperately to ignore it. "I told him he shouldn't pay for it but he said it was an early birthday present. He bought Rachel some too and said he was treating us because he was in a good mood. Rachel seemed nervous after that, but I was distracted by how many dolphins were wandering the mall."

Wow. Blaine thought. Kurt... is selfless. It was the only conclusion he could come up with, but he needed to stop thinking about Kurt. Focus on the investigation Anderson! He scolded himself.

"Why do you think Rachel was nervous?" He pressed, leaning forward in his seat a bit more towards the two girls.

"That's what Kurt said! But Rachel said that it was too risky."

"What was too risky?"

"I think she means, risqué. Right, Britt?" Santana interjected, turning to her girlfriend. Brittany nodded vigorously.

"That's it!" She cried. Turning back to Blaine she continued, "She said she thought it was too risqué and that's why she was nervous so Kurt gave her this huge pep talk about how confidence was sexy and he ended up buying it for her." She shrugged and Blaine's mind was going into overdrive.  
Confidence is sexy... He repeated to himself in his head, subconsciously writing it down on his paper as well as everything else Brittany had said. Little did he know he would scribble it out later and not recall ever writing it with dark blushes that reached his hairline.

"At the mall, did you happen to see a man or woman about Kurt's height with slicked back brown hair with an ugly pea coat speaking into a black cell phone?" He asked the the less smarter of the two girls sitting on a now soaked blue couch.

Brittany shook her head. "That's all I remember." She shrugged and began playing with her hair absentmindedly. Blaine's eyebrow twitched in irritation. She wasn't much help. That story was pretty much pointless. He only learned that Rachel was insecure about her body and that Kurt was selfless. He replayed her story in his head, mentally pausing the scene where Santana interrupted Brittany to alter the story when she wasn't even there... suspicious. But there was no way to bring it up in a conversation despite the fact that it was basically question and answer.

Blaine shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "And are you familiar with the address, 912 Apple Street?" He asked, observing them closely. Brittany shook her head but Santana had one of those, "it rings a bell but I just can't put my finger on it" faces.

"It sounds familiar..." she admitted, thinking hard. "Why?"

"That's where Rachel died." The room was silent and Brittany looked close to tears again. Santana wrapped her friend in a hug and rubbed her back soothingly, whispering something quietly in her ear that Blaine knew his bug would pick up and he could listen to it later. "It's also Finn's house."

Santana looked like she just had an epiphany and she snapped her fingers. "That's why I know the address!" She exclaimed, but then her eyes darkened. "If she was killed in Frankenteen's house then why aren't you interviewing him?"

"Already did. I got nothing."

"And why aren't you inspecting the crime scene?"

"Because we already did. The result? Nothing."

Santana humphed and crossed her arms. "I don't see why you're interviewing us of all people. I mean, I get we're mean and all, but come on. We're not murderers!" She threw her hands up in the air for emphasis.

"Because you were friends with Rachel Berry, however platonic the relationship may have been and any and all information regarding her death is welcomed with open arms; and that is all that is welcomed." Blaine stared pointedly at Santana who shrugged and leaned back into the couch.

"We have nothing more to say to you. And if you're not going to get it on with us in the bedroom then I only have one thing to say to you." Before Blaine could interject, Santana stood up and let her towel fall to the ground as she pointed to the door and yelled, "GET OUT!". Blaine was out of there like lightning - only faster.


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N. Hi all! Here's chapter 7! Not much else to say... for those of you who read Gleeful Travels, another chapter will be up tomorrow I promise!** **Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer to end all disclaimers - I don't own Glee -_-**

Chapter 7

The next day was Halloween, and Kurt was busy putting decorations all over his apartment to distract himself from the thoughts of his best friend whom he had lost not three days prior. Finn was clumsily trying to help but only ended up tangling himself in orange and black fuzzy streamers. Frustrated, he attempted to throw them to the ground but only managed to get his foot stuck in a bucket and he fell over with a yelp, knocking into the ladder that Kurt was standing on. Kurt screamed as the ladder tipped backwards and he swung his body around to the other side to avoid being crushed but only managed to kick the wall and he landed on the ground with an "oomf!", narrowly missing being flattened by the very thing he was previously standing on. He groaned.

"FINN!" He screeched, testing all his muscles to make sure nothing was broken or sprained. Slowly, he sat up, heart still racing and face still pale, to observe his surroundings. Finn lay in a crumpled heap of orange and black on the carpet that was now covered in sparkles and confetti that were in the bucket before Finn had spilled it. The witch that Kurt had been hanging from the ceiling was dangling by her foot upside down and the ladder had broken in its fall. Kurt sighed and picked himself up. He brushed the dust off his skinny jeans and re-popped the collar of his furry vest.

On the floor, Finn pried the streamers from his eyes and peaked out, fearing his step-brother's wrath. "Yes?" He squeaked. He kept his gaze riveted to university student in front of him who was currently fixing the cuffs of his black silk shirt. Kurt looked up and met Finn's stare with one of his famous bitch glares and Finn cowered. "I-I'll clean it up!" He suggested and struggled to stand but only managed to fall back down. Kurt sighed again and rolled his eyes. He walked over to his brother and grabbed the bucket with both hands. He heaved and grunted as he tried to pull the pail off of the former football player's foot. He scrunched up his face in concentration when he suddenly fell on his back, bucket in hand. He let out a puff of air and sat up, placing the pail on the floor. He then proceeded to crawl through the sparkles to reach the streamers wrapped mercilessly around Finn and began to untangle him, one streamer at a time. Finn tried to help, but his hands were slapped away but Kurt's and he sat there sulking as Kurt worked his torturously slow magic.

Once he was free, the two began to sweep the sparkles off the carpet and back into the bucket in silence. Finn squirmed uncomfortably, holding the bucket on its side while Kurt used the broom to clean the living room. He didn't want there to be silence. Silence would allow him time to think and he knew what he would think about should he get the opportunity and he wanted to avoid thinking about it at all costs. He quickly blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"So... are you going to the cast party tonight?" He bit his tongue immediately after asking it. Of course Kurt wouldn't be going. He was supposed to go with Rachel - also a member of the cast - and now that she's gone, he won't. Kurt looked startled.

"How did you know about that?" He asked, avoiding Finn's question. Finn shrugged as Kurt resumed sweeping.

"I was going to be her date." He responded with nonchalance. He seemed to be much more comfortable with his lover's death than Kurt was, but both boys knew that that wasn't the case. On the inside, he was hurting more than he himself could ever see, but only Kurt and Carole and maybe Burt knew that.

"Well, to answer your question... no, I am not going." He finished up the sweeping and took the bucket from Finn to place it outside the front door as a sort of jack-o-lantern. When he returned back inside, Finn was shifting from foot to foot and staring anxiously at the ground with his hands behind his back. He was biting his bottom lip nervously.

"I think you should go." He stated a little more quietly than usual. "I think we should go." He reiterated. Kurt blinked at him, surprised.

"Why?"

"Well, I think it would be good for us. To... you know, get out. Not think about... her."

"Finn, how would we forget about her by going to a party she was invited to? With a bunch of people who were her friends?" Kurt crossed his arms adamantly.

"Well, you know, alcohol and blaring music and... stuff." Finn shuffled his foot forward and backward on the cream carpet.

"And why would you come?" At this, Finn looked up, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"To accompany you of course."

"As my brother?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's kind of embarrassing? Plus, everyone knows I'm gay and no one knows you're my brother. Do you really want to spend the entire night explaining to everyone how we're NOT a couple?" Realization dawned on his face and he shook his head no. Kurt continued, "That's what I thought. If you are so concerned with me getting out of the apartment I'll go alone."

"No!" Finn shouted, taking a step towards his step-brother. "We can both go, we'll just act like we don't know each other. We can arrive at different times and everything!"

"So, you want to go the party?"

"Well, not really b-" Kurt interrupted him and pointed at his face, his finger inches from Finn's nose.

"You don't really want to go, you just want me to stop moping. Well I'm sorry Finn, but going to a party and coming back hungover will not help the situation what so ever. If you don't want to go then don't go. But, if you REALLY want me to go, then like I said before, I will go alone."

"No!"

"Why not?" Kurt was getting frustrated and he cocked his hip. Finn knew from personal experience that this was a bad sign. He gulped, but plowed on.

"I don't want you going alone. It's too dangerous." Kurt was taken aback.

"Dangerous? What would you coming and pretending you don't know me do about that? The only danger we'd be in would be that everyone thinks we're dating." Both boys cringed.

"Have you ever given much thought as to why she died?" There was no reason for a name. They both knew who they were talking about. Kurt's blood ran cold. He shook his head. "We only know she was murdered, but what if she was murdered for a specific reason. What if that reason makes us potential targets? What if they were trying to get to one of us but were spotted by Rachel so they killed her? What if they killed her to get our attention? Maybe they-"

"Finn, enough!" Kurt shouted, his heart pounding in his ears at all of the possibilities that had been opened up to him. "We are not in some stupid action movie you always watch nor are we in any of the mystery romance novels that Rachel is obsessed with." They both winced, but Kurt plowed on. "We are in reality. Get it? Reality." He enunciated the word very clearly. "And yes, those are all possibilities, I will give you that, but they are extremely far-fetched possibilities. We can't spend our entire lives waiting to be slaughtered. We are going to live our lives to the fullest and nothing is gonna stop us, capiche?" He was breathing a bit faster than normal as he turned and stalked to his room, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't know why we was so angry. Finn was only trying to protect him, but all those scenarios he had placed in his mind had set him on edge. What if Finn was right? What if someone was out to kill him and had accidentally taken Rachel's life instead? He would never forgive himself if that happened. She deserved to live. He was paranoid now. What if there was a killer lurking around every corner? What if there was one at the party, waiting for him to show up so they could-

Knock knock knock. "Kurt?" Finn's voice penetrated Kurt's escalating fears and brought him back to earth. Chest heaving with sadness and paranoia and fear, Kurt stood up and leaned his face against the cool white wood of his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"I want you to know that... I'm only doing this because I love you, and I don't wanna lose you too." Kurt's eyes filled with tears and he flung his door open to reveal his step-brother staring at him apologetically. He opened his arms in silent asking and that was all it took. Kurt threw his arms around him and began sobbing hysterically not unlike he had the night of Rachel's death. They held each other in their time of need and cried. They would always trust each other, they would always have each other's backs, they would always defend the other, and they would always love each other.

"I'm sorry I'm being so emotional." Kurt whispered and Finn chuckled.

"It's fine. It's to be expected at a time like this. I just... I've been really protective of you since the Karofsky incident and I still wasn't able to protect you from him... but I want to be able to protect you now. After... recent events... or, event... I guess, um, I just want to... you know, make sure you're okay?" He said the last part like a question. Kurt stepped back and wiped his tears with his hands.

"Finn, I am okay. I'm dealing with this in my own way and so are you. It's only been a couple days. I don't think I'm ready to go to the party. So we won't go, okay?"

"But I still don't want you moping around all day and it's not like we can go trick-or-treating."

"While true, a party will not help. We can do whatever you want, EXCEPT go to a party, alright?" Finn pouted, but then his face lit up.

"What if I hired you a bodyguard? Then you could go and no one would think we're dating!" Kurt's jaw dropped.

"A bodyguard? Are you serious?"

"I'm one hundred percent serious! I'm a hundred and ten percent serious! You are going to that party and you are not going alone."

"Finn, do you even know anyone you could hire? On such short notice no less?" Kurt asked, thinking he'd won. Finn scrunched up his face in thought. After a little while, Kurt moved to close his door when Finn's "light bulb" face appeared and he placed his hand on the door, preventing it from slamming before he could state his idea.

"What about that cop that interviewed us?" Kurt stopped. This was an intriguing idea... He imagined them at the party, Blaine following him around, looking around everywhere to make sure he wasn't in any danger, being very protective of him. A passing student made him growl and he threw his arm around Kurt's waist- "Kurt?" The boy in question blinked, startled from his reverie.

"You mean Blaine?" He confirmed, acting as if his daydream mid-conversation hadn't happened. Finn nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, I'll call him up and we can pay him to look out for you."

"Finn, I don't need a babysitter."

"Don't think of it like that, think of it like a bodyguard."

"You didn't deny it."

"Deny what?"

"Nevermind."

"Great! I'll call him." Finn whipped out his cell phone.

"What?! No!" Kurt lunged for the phone but the frankenteen held it just out of his reach while searching through his contacts for one Blaine Anderson. Kurt jumped and stretched and reached but he couldn't get the phone out of his brother's hands. "Finn! Stop this! I am not going to that party and you know it!"

"Aha! Found it!" Finn exclaimed and immediately pressed "Dial". He bolted for the bathroom and locked himself in before Kurt could tear him to shreds. As soon as the lock clicked there was banging on the door.

"Finn Oscar Hudson you open this door right now before I strangle you!" Kurt yelled, pounding his fists on the door. His face was flushed and his glare was set on the door. His voice had gone down an octave like it did whenever he was furious.

On the other side of the door, Finn chuckled as the phone rang. "That's not my middle name mister Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!" He called and the banging noises grew louder. Suddenly, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi! Yes, this is Finn Hudson." The banging stopped and FInn smiled triumphantly. "I'm calling for Blaine Anderson?" There was a pause. Blaine obviously wasn't expecting a call.

"Speaking." He finally responded.

"I would like to request a favour from you." Another surprised pause.

"Ummm... okay?" He sounded less professional than before and Finn felt like this guy had many walls built up that would simultaneously break down and rebuild themselves on instinct.

"See, my little brother Kurt, you remember him right?"

"I'm three months older than you Finn!" Kurt shouted through the door and Finn bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

"Yes." Was the curt reply.

"Well, he insisted on going to this Halloween slash cast party tonight but I really don't want him to go alone and he is too stubborn to let me come along so I was hoping you could accompany him to make sure he doesn't suffer the same fate as my wife." The banging had started up again as Kurt protested that he wasn't stubborn and that he didn't insist on going to some stupid party.

On the other end of the line, there was silence. Finn pulled at his sleeve nervously as the phone crackled. Finally, Blaine answered with a question. "Why me, of all people?"

"Because, you are the only person I know with training in security and... you know, stuff." He rubbed the back of his neck. This call was starting to sound more and more pointless...

"Well, I'm honoured." Finn perked up and his eyes widened in the slightest. He felt a smile start to form on his face without his brain consciously commanding it to.

"Does that mean yes?"

"Yes."

"Yesssssssss!" Finn fist pumped the air and jumped up and down, knocking over a few of Kurt's products to the floor, but the former football player didn't care. He hardly ever won against Kurt, and he was extra happy whenever he did. "Okay, we'll pick you up at seven. Where's your house?" Again, silence. What kind of connection did he have anyway? He'd have to speak to his cell phone provider. "Hello?"

"I'll pick you up. It's easier for me. I gotta go. Bye." Before Finn could even react, the line went dead. He shrugged and hung up. Now it was time to face his brother's wrath. He listened hard: Kurt's fists were not currently pounding the door down, so he figured it was safe to open the door. WRONG.

Kurt's face was red as a tomato and he looked furious, but it seemed as though Finn had caught him in the middle of losing his steam as the colour slowly drained. Finn smirked smugly and crossed his arms after putting his phone in his back pocket. Kurt sighed, his complexion now back to the pale porcelain he was known for.

"Finn..." Kurt was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? How could you? He knew how and why. He had lost one of the many brotherly quarrels that they shared constantly, he felt resigned. He sighed again, deciding it best that he not yell at Finn for something that can't be changed. He could always call Blaine and cancel, but that would seem... childish. He began massaging his temples as he tried to control his annoyance at his brother. "What are the details?" He muttered barely loud enough to be comprehensible. Finn beamed that Kurt wasn't eating him alive and happily answered.

"He's coming here at seven." Kurt's eyes popped out of his head and his arms dropped to his sides.

"What?! That only gives me an hour to prepare!" Kurt quickly moved past Finn towards his room and shut the door, all the while mumbling under his breath that it was nowhere near enough time to pick out an outfit and what not. Finn just shook his head and smiled, heading towards the kitchen to get something to eat - he was starving.

GLEE!

One hour later, there was a knock at the door of Kurt's apartment. Finn answered the door with a smug smile still on his face. "Hey Blaine! Come on in!" Blaine nodded and followed him inside, dressed all in black (nothing new there) and with his hands buried deep in his pockets. This was something he'd never had the "pleasure" of experiencing. He'd never been to a party or gone out to "hang" with his friends. This was completely new to him, but FInn did have a point. With the skanks on the loose and their target potentially being someone close to Rachel, Kurt might not be safe.

He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet awkwardly and instead stared straight ahead, admiringly Kurt's handy work with decorating yet again. "Hello Finn." He greeted, standing in the middle of the family room. Finn just continued smiling and it made Blaine uneasy. He cleared his throat. "Um, so where's Kurt?"

"Here!" Kurt shouted as he emerged from his bedroom wearing the costume from the play. His character was a super smart Harvard graduate with tortoise-shell glasses, brown trousers, and a blue collared shirt. Kurt was fixing the cuffs of his sleeves as he walked in and smiled when he saw Blaine. "Good evening Blaine, I hope your day has been of the satisfying kind." He said in a british accent as he adjusted his glasses. Blaine was confused, to say the least.

"Um... yes, it was... thank you." He nodded politely. Kurt then burst into a fit of giggles and Blaine was even more confused than before. He looked to Finn for help but he was just watching the scene with amusement. Finally, Kurt stopped laughing and explained.

"Finn told you it was a costume party right?" Blaine nodded. "He also told you it was a cast party, and I assume you know what that is." Even though he didn't, Blaine nodded anyway. "Well, the entire cast is dressing up as their character from the play and we are all going to be in-character at the party. It's basically a night of improv but I bet you the more drunk they are, the less like their character they'll be. So, feel free to call me Kurt but just so you know, to everyone else I'm Arden Frigolo, super genius, British, and straight." Kurt didn't know what possessed him to do what he did next: he winked. He didn't know what he was expecting, a blush, a returning a wink, something? But he didn't get a reaction. Part of him was relieved that he hadn't embarrassed himself in front of someone so good-looking, but the other part was disappointed that Blaine didn't do anything that would be considered romantic.

Ignoring those feelings all together, he sauntered up to Blaine and fixed his glasses. The next time he spoke, it was with an accent from Great Britain. "Come on then, shall we escape my pig of a brother?"

"Hey!" Finn shouted, but before he could say or do anything else, Kurt grabbed Blaine by the crook of his elbow and tugged him out the door, slamming it in the former football player's face. Resisting the urge to giggle, Kurt looked to Blaine only to find the shorter boy staring at where his hand touched his arm. Blushing, Kurt let go of him and let go of the vision he'd had of him and Blaine walking into the party arm in arm.

Feeling like he should say something, Blaine coughed into his fist and spoke. "My car is parked out front." It was a plain statement that didn't seem friendly at all. He internally cringed and began walking just a step ahead of Kurt so that he wouldn't have to see his face. Surely it didn't count as a date, Blaine was there merely to protect Kurt. Kurt would probably ignore him for the whole night while Blaine lingered in the shadows, watching as Kurt and his friends had the time of their lives in the prime of their lives.

They walked in silence, scuffling their feet against the carpeted hallways and rocking back and forth on their heels in the elevator while the soft music began playing the background. Anxious for something to say, Kurt blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"This is the first song my glee club ever sang together, well, the first of us that is." As soon as the words left his mouth, he snapped it shut. Talking about school usually led to talking about bullies, and bullies led to Karofsky. He didn't want to talk about how weak he was in high school to someone tough like Blaine. Speaking of which, said boy raised an eyebrow.

"Journey? Kind of an old song..." he mused, glad to be able to fill the void of silence that was irking him so. Kurt shrugged.

"It was Finn's choice. He sang the lead along with-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue in the process. He couldn't say her name. He just... he just couldn't. Blaine, having read every last word of both Rachel and Kurt's (for curiosity's sake) files, already knew who sang the female lead, but he couldn't let Kurt know that.

"Who?" he asked, cringing. He didn't want to ask, he already knew the answer, but it was what any normal person would do, and he needed Kurt to believe that he was normal. Kurt took in a deep breath and dropped his British accent. Blaine preferred him that way.

"Finn's ex-wife." He said, sorrow clearly etched into his voice, but his effort to hide it was also evident. Wanting very badly to stop thinking about Rachel, he did the only thing he could. He sang. He sang both parts in Don't Stop Believing very quietly, praying to whatever deity he didn't believe in that Blaine couldn't hear. Unfortunately for him, being a spy and all, Blaine had super hearing and his jaw almost dropped in shock at how wonderful Kurt's voice was.

He was a counter tenor, meaning he could hit really high notes as well as really low notes. At the moment, he was switching between the two so that he could sing both the female and male parts. Not knowing what he was doing, Blaine joined in singing the male parts since he wasn't as comfortable as Kurt was with the higher notes. Kurt almost stopped singing in shock, but continued and they whispered they lyrics to each other, singing quietly in the elevator with one floor remaining.

Blaine was a tenor, meaning his range was somewhere in the middle of the scale. His voice was smooth and it connected with Kurt's on an emotional level that neither of them noticed. Glasz blue met firm hazel as their eyes locked on each other's throughout the duration of their little elevator ride.

_Don't stop! Believing! Hold on to that feeling!_  
_Streetlight! People!_  
_Don't Stop!_

The song ended just as the doors before them slid open at the lobby, and an old married couple hobbled in. Blaine held the door so that it wouldn't close as the two boys stepped out. Kurt was blushing furiously and he pushed his glasses farther up his nose. They walked out into the cool night air, their palms pressed against the glass of the doors to push open. They walked down the sidewalk, Blaine leading the way with his hands stuffed inside his pockets. After only a couple meters, they stopped in front of a sleek black Mercedes Benz that looked so expensive, Kurt's entire closet probably cost half as much as the leather seats - and Kurt has some pretty expensive clothes.

Not seeming to notice Kurt's awe, Blaine got in the driver's side and Kurt quickly snapped his mouth shut and followed on the passenger side. He tried not to think about how Blaine didn't open the door for him as he buckled his seat belt. It wasn't a date after all. It was literally nothing personal, just business. Wait, was Finn paying him? Before he could ask, Blaine quickly jumped in while starting the ignition and pulling onto the road.

"You are an amazing singer." He complimented, causing Kurt to smile in modesty.

"I could say the same to you." He said back. "In fact, I will. You are an amazing singer." Blaine raised an eyebrow and cast Kurt a quick glance.

"Really? I've only ever sung in the shower." He commented truthfully. He glad they could talk about something where he wouldn't have to lie. He hated lying to innocent people who deserved to know the truth, but not all people could handle the truth, no matter how corny that sounded. Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"Well, let me put it this way. If you were on American Idol, you'd win, hands down." Kurt smiled at him, revealing his white teeth and dimples. Blaine was suddenly glad that had to keep his eyes on the road, because if he had to look at that for a second longer his chest might have burst.

"Wow, I'm flattered." He returned the smile, but his eyes never left the front window, if only to check his mirrors. "But if you were another contestant, I'm sure everyone would vote for you." Kurt snorted.

"I doubt it." Blaine raised an eyebrow. This guy was in glee club and was now at a performing arts school. How could he think that?

"Why?"

"Because you don't have GAY written all over your face." He stated, his smile never faltered. Kurt was comfortable with a topic like this now that he knew Blaine wouldn't make fun of him. Blaine, however, wasn't as comfortable on the topic.

"I'm gay too you know." In his peripheral vision, he saw Kurt shoot him a brief glance before also watching the road ahead of them.

"But like I said, it isn't written all over your face. I thought you were straight." Kurt clarified, shrugging his shoulders. Blaine nodded.  
"Well, anyone who didn't vote for you is too stupid to see that you deserve to win more than anyone else, including me." At a red light, he turned to flash his passenger a quick smile and Kurt grinned back.

"Thank you." Another awkward silence followed and it rang in their ears as they struggled to find something else to talk about. Eventually, Kurt decided a question was in order. "So, I don't know much about you and you probably know more than you ever needed to know for the case." He gave a weak smile and Blaine returned it, but it was weak for a whole 'nother reason. "I want to know something about you. Tell me about your family." He insisted, placing both hands in his lap.

Blaine's grip on the steering wheel tightened almost imperceptibly. Kurt didn't notice. Grudgingly, Blaine decided it was only fair to answer the question, seeing as how he knew every detail of Kurt's life. Unfortunately, though, he'd be forced to lie. Until then, he would stick as close to the truth as possible.

"We're a pretty dysfunctional family. Sometimes we hate each other's guts, other times we barely acknowledge each other, and sometimes we work extremely well together." He said, speaking of his fellow spies whom he assumed Kurt would consider "family" as he had no other blood relatives of which he was aware.

"Do you have any siblings?" Kurt asked, tilting his head curiously. For some strange reason, the action sent Blaine's nerves into a frenzy.

"Erm... two brothers and an older sister." He responded, referring to Nick and Jeff and the sister he'd told Kurt he was shopping for a present for at Barney's. "We bicker all the time but we work well together." Kurt nodded.

"And your parents?"

"Mom died when I was very little," not a lie, "and my father is obsessed with his gavel." Of course, he was talking about Wes, his supervisor.

"Do you have any pets?"

"No, dad's allergic." Wes is allergic to dogs.

"Have you ever moved?"

"Once, but I wasn't old enough to remember." Blaine had only been a few months old when the spy organization had taken him in.

"Me too. It was when my dad got married to Finn's mom and we needed a bigger house, so we bought a new one." It was Blaine's turn to nod, hoping that Kurt would start talking about his father or his step-mother or something to get the spotlight off of his completely made up past. Alas, he was not so lucky. "But back to you, what's your favourite colour?" Blaine blinked, a bit surprised but he fired off his answer none the less.

"Cerulean blue." Immediately after admitting it, it took all of his concentration not to blush. He'd just told Kurt that his favourite colour was the colour of his eyes. "You?" He asked, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Hazel." He answered, turning his head to stare out the passenger window to hide his massive blush. "Favourite movie?"

"Titanic." Kurt seemed surprised, and he turned to face the driver. "What?" Blaine asked, not understanding Kurt's expression.

"Nothing, I just... didn't peg you as a softie underneath such a tough exterior." He explained, avoiding eye contact at all times. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Kurt was quick to rush to his own defense and he raised his hands in a peace motion, but then began to furiously wave them back and forth.

"No! No, of course not! It's just... that's my favourite movie too." The two boys smiled at each other as the lights of New York City swam by in a blur of colours.

"Cool. So, what's your favourite book?" Blaine asked, continuing with their little "back-and-forth".

"Harry Potter."

"Same!" They shared another smile.

"Okay, favourite song?"

"Defying Gravity."

"Teenage Dream."

"You really are a softie, aren't you?"

"Shut up!"

"Haha, okay. Favourite musical?"

"I've only ever seen one, and it was Moulin Rouge." Blaine answered, shrugging his shoulders. Kurt's jaw was on the car floor.

"Okay, I am taking you to see Wicked A.S.A.P!" he announced, excitement and shock shining in his eyes. Blaine gave him a closed mouth smile. He didn't mind musicals, but if he had a choice he probably wouldn't go by himself.

"Right. So, favourite animal?"

"Cheetah."

"Lion."

"Favourite gemstone?"

"Huh, I've never been asked that before. Umm... I'd say, the classic Diamond."

"Ah, good choice. Personally, I'd have to say Amethyst."

"Very pretty. Okay, middle name?"

"Ah... It's... um... Elizabeth." He mumbled under his breath. Blaine already knew that, but he hadn't heard him properly, so he had to pretend that he needed Kurt to repeat. Sometimes, being a spy meant doing things that were totally unnecessary. Blaine wanted to question it, but before he could, Kurt beat him to the punch. "It was my mother's name."

Blaine nodded in understanding, keenly observing the caution in Kurt's eyes, as if Blaine might turn against him at any moment and he would be prepared, but so far he had not given him a reason to be so cautious - it must have been Rachel's death. She was murdered, so he supposed it was a good thing that Finn and Kurt were being so careful.

"Mine's Everett." He told him. Kurt looked up from his lap where his fingers were lacing and unlacing themselves and stared at Blaine, his face blank. Then he smiled. And so, their game continued until Blaine turned into the underground parking lot of another apartment building across town from Kurt's home.

Once he found a parking spot and turned off the ignition, Kurt popped into character by fixing his glasses and straightening his bowtie. The two boys exited the vehicle and headed for the door that would lead inside. Blaine reached it first and tried the handle - it was locked. Kurt was only a couple paces behind him so Blaine had to work fast if he was going to pick the lock before anyone noticed.

It was an old fashioned door handle, with gold paint spray-painted over the metal sphere that was attached to the door by screws. Blaine twitched his shoulder almost imperceptibly and a bobby pin fell from a secret compartment in his sleeve right into his hand where he immediately inserted it into the lock hard and twisted, making it look as if he just grabbed the door and turned the knob. He threw open the door and held it for Kurt, figuring it was only polite. Kurt nodded and walked inside.

The two found themselves walking down a very short hallway with cement walls and furry ceilings to reach a small glass elevator. They both stepped inside and Kurt pressed the "Penthouse" button. Blaine raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. They waited patiently in silence for the elevator to reach the top floor; unlike last time when it was awkward, this time it was comfortable.

Until suddenly, Blaine visibly tensed. His eyes began searching every millimeter of space inside and out of the elevator, trying to find the source of his instincts yelling at him to get out of the elevator. He looked to the board of buttons and they were only on the tenth floor. They needed to get off - NOW. Blaine jabbed the elbow into the control panel just as they hit the eleventh floor and the elevator shook violently as it came to an abrupt halt. Blaine stood his ground while Kurt rammed into the back wall just as the lights sparked off. All was quiet, until a faint beeping sound could be heard by Blaine and only Blaine. Not giving away what he already knew, Blaine took out one of his gadgets disguised as a belt but was really a crowbar and rapidly pried the doors open. The beeping sounded louder, and closer. Heart pounding, Blaine grabbed Kurt forcefully by the wrist and threw him out of the elevator just as he let the crowbar go. Kurt tripped and fell face first on the tile just as the elevator doors slammed shut and a tiny explosion shook the building that Blaine tried to cover with a cough. Kurt didn't seem to have noticed the shaking since he was already disoriented, but he could have sworn he heard an explosion.

Blaine knew he had to have an explanation at the ready for what he did without revealing too much, but he found himself hating lying to Kurt more than anyone else. He couldn't let that feeling stop him from doing his duties for his fellow spies among the organization he was loyal to.

"Kurt, I-"

"Save it!" The countertenor snapped, rolling over so that he was in a sitting position. He glared at Blaine and the spy had never seen a glare that powerful; still, he didn't waver.

"My instincts told me-" he tried again, only to be interrupted by a furious Kurt.

"Your instincts can suck it!" He yelled, pushing himself to stand. Blaine held out a hand but Kurt slapped it away forcefully. Blaine frowned. This was not good. "Now tell me, WHAT THE FRIG WAS THAT?" he shouted, throwing his arms into the air. People were starting to stare and Blaine would not stand for that. He grabbed Kurt's wrist again and yanked him towards the stairwell a few doors down before he could protest. When they were alone in the cold and echo-y stairwell, Kurt resumed his scream fest. "BLAINE! Explain!" He crossed his arms and began tapping his foot, but then he uncrossed his arms and began rubbing the wrist that Blaine had forcefully grabbed - twice.

"Look Kurt, your brother sent me to protect you, and that's what I'm doing. I saw an out of order sign in the elevator and knew that it was broken. If it hit the top floor it's doors wouldn't have opened, it would have plummeted back down to Earth and killed us. I saved you. Be grateful." He spat, clenching his fists. His anger was starting to simmer. Kurt looked to him and did something Blaine never thought he'd ever see anyone do.

"I don't believe you." He said, his voice firm and his stance cold. Blaine grit his teeth as Kurt continued to massage his wrist that starting to receive a purple hue. "I didn't see an out of order sign." He seemed calmer now, less angry and more skeptical. "But I can clearly see that you saved me from the explosion, and so for that I am grateful. I will not, however, apologize for being angry with you because you can't really blame me. The more you lie to me, the less I will trust you. However much Finn paid you I can give you more to just go home."

"Finn didn't pay me anything. I did this as a favour and this is what I get?" He raised his voice, his arms practically shaking from the restraint of not using violence like he was so used to. There was no punching bag around, there was nothing he could do. He needed to remain calm, he couldn't lose control - not here, not now.

"You did this as a favour to Finn! Not me! You are here by choice so I don't see why you don't just leave!" Kurt shouted, practically challenging Blaine to punch him. Luckily, the spy held his ground.

"I'm here because of things like that!" He gestured to the elevator. "You can't tell me you don't want me around tonight after almost dying and me saving your life!"

"I never said I didn't want you around!" Kurt screamed back. Chest heaving, he backed away, his screams echoing in the cold stairwell. He looked down, fidgeting with his glasses. "I like having you around, but I don't like being lied to." He looked up, and his eyes were no longer glaring at him, instead, they shone bright in the dimly lit space.

How could I have let this happen? My lie was horrible and messy and Kurt saw right through it - well, most of it. I need to fix this, before he starts asking questions like how I pried open the doors. I need to calm down. Okay, deep breaths. Inhale... 2... 3... 4... Exhale... 2... 3... 4... Blaine thought, breathing cautiously. Slowly, he unclenched his fingers one by one and stood up straighter, relaxing his jaw. His face was still set in its hard frown, and he was still upset and angry, but he didn't feel like hitting something. It was an improvement at least.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? You happy now? I don't want to lie to you, but you should know that I am loyal to the NYPD and we have some things that we can't discuss with civilians. If you don't want me here, I'll leave." He said, holding still and trying not to be rigid.

"I thought... I thought you didn't want to be here." Silence. Kurt swallowed and there was a bit of shuffling before someone finally spoke - and when they did, both parties were relieved.

"Let's just go." Kurt nodded and went up the stairs first, climbing them two at a time as Blaine followed, jumping them three at a time. It took nine staircases but they were finally at the penthouse. Giant glass - and luckily soundproof - doors that towered above them greeted the two boys, its shiny handles intimidatingly expensive. Kurt turned on Blaine before they could enter, and stared deep into his eyes.

"Blaine, you've already broken my character like three times. I would like to ask you to refer to me as Arden Frigolo and probably keep your distance unless otherwise impossible. It's only respectful." He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and cleared his throat before pushing open the humongous double doors and holding them open for Blaine to walk through. He did.

Immediately, pounding music blasted through the speakers, vibrating the floor and walls. Blaine's first instinct was to cover his ears, but he refrained and continued walking through the already dense crowd. He needed to think. Sometimes, a throng of people is just what you need not to be noticed. Blaine quickly maneuvered through students dressed in costumes as their characters and found a large marble column off to the side. He leaned against it and kept his eyes solely focused on Kurt, a head of brown in a sea of coloured lights flashing from the DJ at the far side of the room. It was hard, but not impossible.

All around, university students were dancing and grinding and drinking, and Blaine remained impassive. This was part of the life he had missed - grand parties thrown while some kid's parents were out of town and spiking the punch or just plain serving alcohol. If he was being honest with himself, what he was observing didn't look fun at all. The place smelled of alcohol and sweat and it was incredibly hot in the room. Blaine tugged at his collar, but didn't remove anything. Laughter and screams of pleasure rang out occasionally above the music and heads were bobbing up and down, arms were being thrown in the air - some with bottles in their hands, others with plastic cups.

Blaine blurred his vision until all he could see was Kurt, awkwardly dancing with a girl who appeared to be flirting with him. It was a technique Blaine had learned as a spy to help with target practice and stealthy observation, but right now Blaine wished he could've forgotten about Kurt at that very moment.

Someone had tried to kill Kurt in that elevator, but they hadn't counted on Blaine being there to prevent it. He could only assume that the skanks had planned it. If they were after Kurt, then Rachel was innocent. They must be looking for someone, but was Kurt that someone? If not, then why would they suspect him or Rachel? Who were they trying to kill? What were they up to? Did they just kill Rachel to lure Kurt out? Were they still in the building? Blaine quickly swept over the area with his observant hazel eyes, not spotting anything suspicious. He glanced back to where Kurt was, but he wasn't there. Worrying just a little bit, Blaine swept over the room again.

He mentally sighed in relief when he spotted the brunette walking towards him, back ramrod straight and walk restricting his hips from swaying as they normally did. What? He was a SPY, he was trained to notice everything. When Kurt reached him, he stuck out a hand as if they had never met before.

"Ello there, gov'na!" He shouted as he shook his hand wildly with a strength that wasn't his own. He really changed everything about himself, didn't he? He took acting really seriously. "Pleased to meet'cha! The name's Arden Frigolo, and you?" His british accent nearly threw Blaine off, but he managed to answer back with a smile.

"Anderson. Blaine Everett Anderson." He released his hands and he saw the corner of Kurt's mouth curve upwards in the slightest, but it was over as soon as it had come and he was Arden again.

"Nice name you got there. Don't suppose you're named after someone?" He asked, clasping his hands behind his back. This must be his attempt to start over. Blaine thought to himself, though it was hard to hear himself think among the blasting tunes. Blaine shook his head. Kurt opened his mouth to continue when he was interrupted by someone who walked up to them, carrying two plastic cups.

He had green-ish blue eyes and a long face (literally) with a wide nose and thin lips. His hair was sandy blonde and pushed up and he wore a black blazer over a red collared shirt and blue jeans. He had this meerkat quality to him that neither boy could put their finger on and his smirk never seemed to leave his face. His eyes raked Blaine's body from top to bottom and back again and he licked his lips. Blaine tensed. The boy turned away from him to face Kurt.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you." He yelled over the noise. He gestured for Kurt to take one of the cups and he hesitantly did so. They shook hands. Kurt tried to give him back the cup but he refused, saying it was for him. "I'm Sebastian Smythe."

"Arden Frigolo. I don't believe you're from here. Where are you from?" Kurt answered, while Blaine simply watched. He had melted into the shadows to watch over their conversation without interrupting. All of a sudden, Sebastian gestured for them to get out of there and Kurt reluctantly followed him. Switching to stealth mode, Blaine weaved through the crowd and never once took his eyes off of the back of Kurt's head. Sebastian led them to the balcony and opened the door for Kurt, closing it before Blaine could get in. Staying in the shadows, he watched with wide eyes as Sebastian discreetly locked the door in a way that Kurt wouldn't notice. Panicking, Blaine immediately went off in search of another way out.

Outside, the music was dulled by the thick glass doors similar to the front and the balcony was huge, about the size of six cars lined up in a row, only in the shape of a half circle. There was a railing about three feet tall with cement spindles that swirled upwards and matched the railing as well as the swirls of the floor. Each step they took felt hollow, and it made Kurt uneasy. He was reminded of the movie Spiderman when Mary-Jane fell off the balcony after it crumbled beneath her thanks to the Green Goblin.

The cold night wind blew through their hair and the sounds of cars honking and people talking could be heard from above. Kurt wandered over to the railing and looked over the edge, witnessing the lights of the city that never slept and observing that the traffic was horrendous with dozens of yellow taxi cabs dotting the streets. Pedestrians looked like little colourful ants and Kurt was reminded of his people watching with Rachel, except he hadn't quite been this high up.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sebastian offered, marching to the railing next to Kurt and leaning against it, drink in one hand. His smirk had yet to leave his face and Kurt felt uneasy. He deducted that Arden would feel uneasy as well, so he let it show by shifting from foot to foot and swirling his drink around so that it sloshed from side to side.

"I completely agree. Now, why are we here?" he asked. Sebastian's smirk grew and he scooched closer to Kurt, whereas Kurt scooched away.

"Of course. I wanted to have a proper conversation with you. You know, the kind where we're not surrounded by grinding straight couples and music you can barely scream over." He scooted closer yet, and Kurt began to sweat despite the single digit temperature of the Autumn air.

"Wait... you're-?"

"Homosexual? You bet. And it's pretty obvious you are too baby face." He patted Kurt's cheeks and he slapped them away.

"I'm not very comfortable with physical contact, so if you could please keep your hands to yourself that would be magnificent. Thank you." He slid over so that there was at least a foot's difference between them. Sebastian scoffed.

"Right. I forgot. You're playing a character. My mistake... Arden. But I don't go to your school, so that's why you don't recognize me. I'm a friend of a friend of Harmony's." He used the hand that was holding the cup to point to the giant glass doors. Somehow, that didn't do anything to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know of a person named Harmony." Kurt pointed out, wishing Blaine was there. "And since I don't know you I propose we-"

"Get to know each other better? What an amazing idea, cheers to a blooming friendship." Sebastian clinked his plastic cup against Kurt's and very nearly spilled Kurt's drink and then he would have had a very angry Arden on his hands. Sebastian downed his entire beverage as Kurt looked at his skeptically.

"I don't drink." He admitted. He knew Arden drank, but Kurt didn't and even if he was Arden on the outside, he was Kurt on the inside and his insides couldn't handle any alcohol, not since throwing up on Ms. Pilsbury's shoes. Sebastian chuckled.

"Don't worry, it's just ginger ale. Totally safe, watch." Sebastian poured some of Kurt's drink into his own cup and drank from it, letting out a satisfying sigh when he was finished. He gestured to Kurt to have him drink. Kurt shrugged and lifted the cup to his lips.

"What the-?" the cup was knocked out of his hands and over the railing. Kurt made an effort to catch it but began to lean over the railing. Luckily, he caught himself before he could lean too far and settled on watching the cup surrender to gravity's clutches and lose all of its contents to the victims walking on the streets of New York City. He let out a sigh of relief when it didn't land on anyone's head and whipped around to find Sebastian passed out on the floor and Blaine standing behind him, looking innocent as ever.

"Wha-?" Kurt began to question but Blaine just shook his head.

"He passed out from the alcohol." He answered immediately. Kurt stared.

"Ooooooookaaaaay... But how did you get in here so fast?"

"The door, duh." He answered, shoving his hands in his pockets and appeared to be digging around for something. "Come on, we should leave." He grabbed Kurt's hand - gentler this time - and tugged him towards the doors and back into the really loud party so that Kurt couldn't protest; at least, not loud enough for him to pretend not to be able to hear him. When they reached the stairwell, Kurt remained quiet and Blaine was thankful.

He had a lot of information to tell David that night. Sebastian had to be working for the skanks, it was the only reason for him drugging Kurt's drink and getting him alone while simultaneously trying to shove him over the edge of the balcony to his doom. Blaine's grip subconsciously tightened on Kurt's, but to his surprise, Kurt squeezed back. Sneaking glances behind him, Blaine kept up his rapid pace down the stairs. He wanted nothing more than to use his pen to just jump the twenty floors down like a fire pole - but he couldn't, so he continued to run. When they finally reached the bottom, Kurt was panting and clutching his chest, but that didn't stop Blaine. He kept a firm hold on him and tugged him to the car where he almost literally threw Kurt in the passenger seat.

He resisted the urge to leap over the hood of the car to the other side and instead just ran around and entered the driver's side, slamming the door shut behind him and pulling out of the parking lot faster than Kurt could get his seatbelt on. Once they were sufficiently far enough away, Kurt broke the silence.

"What was that?" He was much calmer than before and he had dropped his accent... again. "We just got there? Are you paranoid because of the elevator thing? I admit that Sebastian was a... suspicious character, but did we really have to leave like that?"

"Yes, yes we did." Should he tell Kurt about the skanks? No, he couldn't do that, that would be in direct violation with the spy code they recited every day at HQ, Code Name: Dalton. But if Kurt wasn't at least a little bit privy to the knowledge that anyone around him could be after him, then the less cautious he would be. He needed to know something. "Look Kurt, I can't tell you much, but what I can tell you is that you need to stay away from Sebastian and be very careful until I say otherwise." He warned, careful with his words.

"Why? Are the people who took my best friend out to get me now?" Kurt asked with snark. He rested his elbow on the car door and leaned his face against his fist and rolled his eyes. "You don't think I'm being careful what with how no one knows who did it to her? You don't think I was suspicious of Sebastian? I wasn't actually going to drink it. I know you knocked him out by the way." Blaine shot him a surprised look. "I'm not stupid. But I am sick of all these secrets. Wouldn't it be better for me if I were more informed?"

"No!" Blaine shouted immediately, gripping the steering wheel with such force he was afraid he would rip it off. "The more you know, the more danger you are in. We don't know what they're after but as a precaution we need you and Finn and everyone else close to Rachel as safe as humanly possible without giving away that you think they're coming for you. Just let it go!" He huffed and Kurt was glaring at him, but it wasn't at full intensity. It was more... probing. He was searching for something... Blaine didn't know what. Maybe something he could trust? Something to prove that he should listen to him? Whatever he was looking for, he wouldn't find it on him. He was a spy trained to remain impassive in the most emotional of situations. Blaine's anger was his only exception, his only weakness.

After a bit more soul searching from Kurt, the countertenor turned to look out the window. "Finn and I are being careful. Why do you think you're here?" He turned to face him again and this time, his expression softened. Blaine could feel his anger slowly melting away, his muscles slowly releasing tension as his grip loosened. He chanced a glance at his passenger, then back to the road. Kurt continued talking, his voice like honey, soothing him, relaxing him, enveloping him in its warmth and comfort. "I hope you know that this doesn't mean you're my permanent bodyguard. This was just for tonight." An idea struck Blaine and he almost smiled - almost.

"What if I was?" If he followed Kurt around all day, he would be going to places that Rachel frequented before she died. He would be able to collect clues at the school while he was in class and search any hangouts of theirs and sneak out at night to report to Nick and Jeff as well as look more thoroughly for clues as to what happened with Rachel Berry and where the skanks were hiding. Kurt wasn't likely to agree to it, but it was a good idea and if Kurt didn't want him to, than he would simply follow him in secret.

Kurt looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" He lifted his cheek off of his hand and stared at him, craning his neck to the left.

"I said, what if I was your bodyguard all the time? Then you wouldn't ever have to worry about the kind of thing that happened tonight. I would always be watching and if you want, you won't even know I'm there." His mood had brightened a bit at the prospect of spending all his time with Kurt while simultaneously working on his case. There was something about Kurt that made him want to get to know him more... that drew him to the boy. He didn't know specifically what it was, but he knew his instincts were never wrong.

"Do you know creepy that sounded?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. Blaine shrugged. He honestly didn't see how that would be creepy, celebrities had bodyguards all the time, right? If Kurt wanted to be Broadway star than he would need that one day, wouldn't he? "Blaine, I don't need an overprotective stalker to stay safe. Besides, no one would be threatened by you. Heck, I bet that I'm older than you."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen. You?"

"... seventeen."

"Aha! I am older than you! I can take care of myself, thanks for the offer." The conversation seemed to have stopped for good, and Blaine was anticipating a silent ride back to Kurt's apartment when Kurt interrupted it. "Wait, seventeen? Shouldn't you still be in high school?" He asked suspiciously.

Shitshitshitshitshitshit! He thought, scrambling frantically for a way to cover up his mistake. On the outside, he seemed calm as ever, but inside, he was freaking out. "Yes, but I graduated early and joined the force straight away. I was one of those brainiacs in high school, the outcast, the nerd, I had to get out of there A.S.A.P." He hoped his story was believable enough. It sounded fine...

"I hear you." Kurt nodded sympathetically. "A genius, and gay? You must have been given heck in school. I understand completely." He smiled at Blaine and the spy forced one back. He didn't quite know what he was talking about. "At my school, there these neanderthals who made it their mission to make my life a living hell. Throwing slushies in my faces, tossing me in dumpsters, calling me hurtful names, shoving me into lockers, the works. Glee club was my only sanctuary. The people in it... we're a family. Even now, separated across country and by age and gender and sexuality, we remain intact. Even with the loss of our annoying star, we will all be there at her funeral, I can assure you that. You can see why music is so important to me, how it's more important to me now more than ever because I want to achieve my - our, dream. I want us to both live on in my work." He looked up to see that Blaine had gone rigid again and started backtracking. "I'm sorry, I got off topic didn't I?" He laughed humorlessly. "What were we talking about again?"

"Me being your bodyguard." He said, his voice low and harsh. He was not directing his anger at Kurt, but rather at the people who had tortured him as a teenager, even if they weren't there to be on the receiving side of one of Blaine's fists. His rage boiled up inside of him in a flaming heat of anguish that he needed to release with shameless violence. He couldn't though, not yet. Kurt was still in the car and he lost control with Kurt sitting right there... No! He focused on the conversation again, staring straight ahead and praying that Kurt's voice would soothe him yet again.

It took so little to set him off, but so much to calm him down. Well, up until Kurt joined the picture. Kurt relaxed him faster than any medication or violence ever could. He could feel his emotions bottling up inside whenever he didn't release them, but for now they would hold.

"Oh right." Kurt said, staring out the front window. He bit his lip in deep thought. He wanted to get to know Blaine. He knew he was slowly starting to crush on the guy, but he could never let himself fall for him if he was always so secretive. He had to keep his distance, but the very idea made him squirm in his seat, uncomfortable with how much they had shared and how much was still left to be said. He bit his lip. "I'll... let you hang around, I guess, but don't stick too close to me. You can follow me places but it has to look like we're going there together and not like I'm walking around and you're going the same direction as me - unless we're at school, then you have to leave, also if I'm going out with a friend then you are not welcome to spy." Blaine internally snorted. What a perfect choice of words. "I'm not sure how comfortable Finn would be if you slept with us... so, scratch that too. That basically leaves escorting me to and from random places... will that satisfy you?" He looked to Blaine, waiting for his answer and praying for... what was he praying for? What kind of answer did he expect... did he want this guy to have?

"That seems logical. I could always follow Finn around while you're at school." Kurt actually did snort and Blaine felt himself slip into a real smile, because he of all people had made someone laugh. Who knew someone with anger management issues could make someone else happy, in turn making themself happy?

"Oh my God, I can picture him at his shift just staring at you but trying to pay attention to customers at the same time and..." he broke into laughter. Blaine was confused, he couldn't picture what Kurt was seeing in his mind (he wasn't that good a spy) and even if he could, he didn't know what was so funny. He decided not to question it as they pulled up to Kurt's apartment building. Kurt's laughter died down as Blaine parked and he unbuckled his seatbelt. He put his hand on the door handle and pushed open the door, taking a step out into the underground parking lot. With one foot in and one foot out, Kurt stood there in indecision. Finally, he spoke one word, "Thanks." and punctuated it with a smile before slamming the door shut and briskly walking for the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N. Hiya! I'm not too late! Anyway, here's chapter 8, but i don't have any more chapters written up so i'll have to actually ****_write_**** the next one before I post it... wish me luck :S Enjoy! :D And remember, forever and always, I DON'T OWN GLEE.**

Chapter 8

As Blaine drove through the traffic-filled streets of New York City, he replayed the night in his head, starting from when Kurt and Sebastian had gone off to the balcony.

_No! Blaine thought as Sebastian turned and walked towards Kurt, cup in hand. Blaine mentally panicked. Kurt was out there, alone, twenty floors up, in the cold, locked with some suspicious guy he didn't even know. Blaine needed to get in there. But how? He dashed down the hall adjacent to the doors and looked frantically for another way out onto the balcony. He found a closet where a girl and boy were making out, he found a master bedroom where several girls and boys were making out in pairs, and at last he came upon a bathroom where someone was passed out next to the toilet, lying in their own vomit._

_Disgusted, Blaine looked everywhere else but the person. Time was passing, and each second he was away from Kurt was a second that he was in danger. His heart began to pound faster than he thought it would, considering the circumstances. He didn't even know for sure if Sebastian was a skank, if Kurt was in any real danger. That did not stop his blood from rushing or his heart from racing._

_He looked up and spotted a tiny rectangular window that led outside. Blaine closed the toilet lid and stood upon it, peeking through the glass. He could just barely see the balcony far off to the right of his peripheral vision. Close enough, he thought to himself as he took a gadget from seemingly out of nowhere (that looked suspiciously like a screwdriver) and began to pry the window open. It took only one try to yank the frame - glass and all - from the wall and he placed it on the vanity before sticking his head and arms through the hole. Damn, it was a tight fit! He squeezed and sucked in his breath and pushed the wall with all his might, his entire torso hanging over the bustling streets below, the wind lapping at his hair even though it was practically a brick. With one final heave his hips and legs came free and he flipped forward, keeping his grip on the wall tight as his arms twisted backwards and his bottom half slammed into the wall, completely outside the building now._

_Thinking quickly, Blaine kicked off the wall and flipped backward, as if he were going to re-enter the window the way he had come out, but instead aimed his feet higher and - with one final breath - let go of the wall. For one split-second... he was still, face down who knew how many feet in the air with nothing to hold, nothing to grasp to prevent his death should his flip go wrong. He held his breath, waiting, and the moment was over. His feet landed softly on the roof of the penthouse and the rest of his body followed the motion, swinging backwards until he was upright, arms outstretched._

_Not wasting a single moment, he looked to the balcony and saw that Sebastian was inching closer and closer to Kurt, who was moving further and further back. Blaine felt his anger at the back of his mind, but he needed to remain calm - this was a mission, anger and other emotions would only get in the way. He ran across the roof, as if running down the hallway he had come from that was directly below him until he dove for cover behind the thin trim that stuck up a few inches higher than the actual roof itself to hide like a sniper. If he listened hard enough, he could hear whispers, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He poked his head over the trim and focused on Sebastian, making a hand gesture that seemed to be encouraging Kurt to drink the beverage he had given him. Blaine's twenty-twenty vision caught something Kurt probably hadn't: as Sebastian made the gesture, tiny specs of white powder sprinkled from his hand and into Kurt's cup, making imperceptible and inaudible splashes with each collision. _

_Sebastian had drugged it. With the realization came the immediate instinct and unnatural need to do something, to save Kurt from what could be his untimely death._

_Taking what looked like a ninja star out of his pocket, he took no time to aim as he threw it like a frisbee towards the plastic red cup that could kill its victim with just one sip. It wasn't until after his fingers had lost touch with the cold metal that he realized the consequences of his actions should he miss. If he was even a little off, it would hit Kurt in the face and possibly scar him for life, not to mention cause a lot of pain. On edge, (metaphorically and literally), Blaine leaped over the trim as Sebastian backed away from the railing. The spy landed right on the meerkat-faced boy just as Kurt leaned over the railing to catch the cup (guess he hit his mark, phew!) and Blaine's eyes widened. For once in his life, the panic shattered his mask and it showed on his face as he stepped forward to catch the boy should he fall, but he caught himself just in time. Blaine only had time to arrange Sebastian in a form as if he had passed out before the countertenor turned around and spotted him._

Blaine sighed. Kurt was getting too close to the case. The next time he saw him, he would have to more careful with what they spoke of. He would have to keep him distracted with things like performing and fashion, etc. If they were attacked again, he would have to be more subtle. He couldn't afford to let Kurt in on his secret. Kurt would be in too much danger, and Blaine could never let that happen.

He had some snooping to do; and he had to do it as soon as possible. Too bad the penthouse would be filled with passed out horny young adults covered in bile and alcohol. Gross. He needed answers though, and he needed them now. He would have to go tonight. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he pulled up to the hotel. He really didn't want to have to speak to Nick and Jeff - Jeff especially, but he needed the information to investigate. With the two of them working together (albeit reluctantly), they would surely find something to help.

He had gotten distracted by a call from Wes and the Tech Manager David the day before and hadn't been able to investigate Barney's like he had planned. That was definitely on the agenda for the night, he couldn't lose anymore time. Time was precious, if he waited too long then the skanks might move places before he could catch them and they would have to start the case almost completely from scratch, waiting for them to strike again so that they could have somewhere to start.

When he pulled up to the hotel, his content mood with Kurt by his side still lingered and he didn't slam his car door closed like he usually did. He jogged up the stairs and knocked on Nick and jeff's room with the secret rhythm they had chosen prior to checking in. As he waited, he tried to turn his small smile into a frown because he was angry at Jeff, but he found it wouldn't hold. He gave up on it as Nick opened the door.

"I have info." He stated. Nick eyed the security camera behind Blaine and wordlessly let him in. Once inside, Blaine realized that Jeff was nowhere to be seen. He looked to Nick.

"Bathroom." He explained. Blaine nodded and sat down in the desk chair backwards so that he could lean his chin on the back of the seat, one leg on each side. Nick raised an eyebrow and sat on the bed, crossing his legs. It was eerily silent in the room and the tension from the last time they had spoken was thick in the air. Blaine's mood had not changed.

The sound of a flushing toilet broke the quiet and the door to the washroom opened to reveal Jeff in a navy blazer with red trimming that was similar to Nick's. When he spotted Blaine, his eyes didn't narrow like he expected them too. Instead, he pursed his lips and joined Nick on the bed rather stiffly. He nodded in greeting.

"Anderson."

"Sterling. Duval." Blaine nodded at each of them in turn. "I've come here to report to you my findings." He turned to Nick. "Rumours are spreading around Ms. Berry's school like wildfire, and they need to stop before they get too close to the truth. She often frequents Barney's with her best friend Mr. Hummel and I propose that Sterling and I check it out for any clues." He spoke as if Jeff wasn't even there, despite the fact that he'd addressed him at the beginning of his little paragraph.

Jeff held up a hand in a "stop" motion. "Before we dignify that with a response, I just want to let you know... that I'm sorry." Blaine blinked. Yet again, he had been taken off guard. This pattern needed to stop else it might sabotage his mission. He tilted his head in confusion.

"You're... sorry?" He repeated, utterly confused. He knitted his eyebrows together. Jeff nodded, looking at the ground. The blonde took a deep breath and then moved his gaze to meet Blaine's eye. He expected a hardened glare, but instead received guilt and hesitance. This only served to confuse him even more. What the hell?

"Yes, Blaine, I'm sorry." _Okay, now he's calling me by my first name. Am I dreaming? Am I hallucinating? What. The. Hell_. "I'm sorry that I've been so hard on you and I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you when you needed me, needed us." He placed a hand on Nick's knee. Blaine was so confused by this change in attitude that he was speechless. "You told us that you're gay," Blaine tensed, "and you confessed that without knowing that both of us-" he gestured to himself and Nick, "are gay as well. Gay for each other." The two lovers stared into each other's eyes and Blaine's mind was whirring with this new piece of information.

Nick and Jeff were gay? And they were dating? How did he not know this? Granted he didn't exactly flaunt his sexuality either... That would explain why they shared a room though, and why Blaine wasn't rooming with them. "Okay, so you guys are dating. What does that have to do with anything?" Ah... the glare was back. That was something he was familiar with. He glared back. Jeff sighed and looked to Nick pleadingly. The brunette took over with the explanation.

"We want you to know that if you ever need to ask questions about being gay that you can come to us, and that you're not alone."

"I know I'm not." Shoot! He had to literally bite his tongue to stop from mentioning Kurt. That wouldn't have gone over well.

"Of course, but you've been alone pretty much all your life which is one of the reasons we think you're so angry all the time. If you feel like you can come to us for help or anything that maybe we wouldn't fight as much."

"What makes you think I want your help?" His smile disappeared completely. He had Kurt to talk to about that kind of stuff, (not that he would, but it was still a better option than Jeff of all people). You can't just go from enemies to friends with the snap of a finger. Granted, it had been over twenty-four hours... but still! They spoke as if he was just a kid! Like he couldn't handle himself! Like they said, he'd grown up alone, and he could continue that way. He didn't need them to be supportive, if anything that would only make things awkward.

"If you don't want it then fine, don't come to us for help. We just want you to know that you can should you so choose." Blaine nodded stiffly, expecting the conversation to be over, but Nick simply changed the subject. "Where were you?" Uh oh.

"I told you where I was."

"Tell me again." Nick was getting suspicious - this was not good. He made sure not to move, not to tic or twitch. Those were dead giveaways that someone was lying. He would know.

"I went to investigate Mr. Hudson's home." This was not totally a lie. He had investigated the crime scene, just not that particular day (no clues were found whatsoever). If you took his answer out of context than that was all you could pull from it. Nick nodded with narrowed eyes.

"Mmhm. And why, might I ask, were you smiling when you knocked on our door?" Jeff's head snapped up at this and Blaine mentally swore. His fellow spies almost never saw him smile. Jeff had probably never witnessed it, nor had Nick - until a few minutes prior.

"You were smiling?" Jeff asked, his jaw on the floor. Blaine scowled. How was he going to explain this? They knew that it would take a lot to make him smile. What could he say? Could he tell them the truth? No, he'd get a verbal lashing. _Think, Anderson, THINK!_

"No I wasn't." _Wow, real smart_. Blaine thought embarrassingly. _Quick! Cover it up_! "I was simply amused by the fact that I could hear Jeff's grunts from the hallway. _ Ooh! Nice one! Except if Jeff didn't make any noise then you're screwed._ To his surprise - and relief - Jeff blushed crimson and Nick burst out laughing. Blaine let himself exhale quietly.

"Does this mean we're on good terms now?" Jeff asked, hoping to change the subject. The laughter stopped abruptly, waiting for Blaine's answer. He looked down at the ground in thought.

No more anger and resentment equalled no more fighting and hate, no more violence (okay, they were spies, there was going to be violence whether they like it or not) and they could actually speak civilly. It sounded... odd... and oddly comforting. He looked back up at made eye contact with Nick, then Jeff. After a few seconds, he nodded. Nick and Jeff smiled in unison. All at once, Nick headed for the computer, Jeff went for the luggage carrying their weapons and Blaine leapt over the chair towards the gadgets placed strategically on the dresser to look like ordinary things. The three men set to work immediately.

"Blaine, where's this Barney's you want to check out?" Jeff asked, never looking away from the small gun he flipped in his fingers and then stuck in his belt. Blaine grabbed what appeared to be a pen, some hand lotion, a coat button, and marbles as Nick clacked the keys faster than what should be humanly possible.

"I'll lead you there." Blaine answered as he grabbed a small pocket knife and the same kind of gun that Jeff had taken. Jeff nodded and Nick pushed the chair back, screeching against the wooden floor.

"All rumours of the Berry murder have been removed from the internet. Chat boxes, private messages, blogs, comments, articles, everything. I'm calling Wes to let him know you're going out and that if you don't report back in exactly two hours that he is going to blow up all of your identification that can be used against you and anything that could make them keep you hostage. Get out and back A.S.A.P. or I will kick your asses with a steel-toed boot." Nick announced while dialing their supervisor. Jeff rolled his eyes.

"You'd love to touch my ass wouldn't you." Blaine made a face as Nick turned away to talk to Wes.

"Okay, now that I now you're dating, you're going to have to slowly immerse me in your world of lovey dovey hearts and what not, instead of dunking me head first so that I don't get to witness your sexual innuendos." Blaine said and Jeff laughed. Blaine rarely ever heard it when they spoke to one another, and it was a nice feeling to know that they were no longer enemies in the social sense.

"Right, sorry." He grabbed a pen and some marbles and switched blazers so that he was dressed all in black then covered his hair with a black hat. "Let's go." Nick snapped his phone shut.

"Good luck." He smiled sadly at Jeff who grabbed him by the waist and brought him in for a passionate kiss.

"GUYS!" Blaine cried. What the heck? This has got to be the weirdest night of my life. Where was all this romance before? Why am I being submerged in it like a submarine under water? They broke apart and Jeff smirked as Nick flushed.

"Sorry, it's just something we do before every mission, no matter how small." Jeff shrugged and exited the room, leaving Blaine in shock. He turned to Nick, who also shrugged.

"Best of luck to you too. Now shoo!" He ushered the younger spy at the door. Blaine shook his head as if to clear it of the images he had of Nick and Jeff kissing and ran after his co-worker. He caught up to him on the stairwell on when he slid down the banisters. Jeff stopped to gawk at him.

"Damn, that looks fun!" He then proceeded to slide down the railing behind Blaine and they got down much faster. Blaine hadn't realized that what he was doing could be classified as amusing, he only did it for speed, but if he forgot why he was sliding... then he guessed it was kind of fun. Once outside, Blaine pulled out the coat button from his pocket. It was round and a dull red with four small holes in the center creating a square. He pressed his thumb in the center and two vehicles quietly and speedily pulled up in front of them.

It looked like a go kart it was so tiny. It was slick and black and not at all shiny. It had a tinted window for a roof and could fit two people if they squished in one behind the other. The roof lifted up and Blaine and Jeff leapt into the leather seats and closed the roof, not bothering with seat belts, as they clicked themselves. Blaine was in front and he pressed the pedal so hard that it hit the floor of the tiny car. The engine was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, the only hint that it was on were the vibrations in the vehicle as they sped forward at blinding speed.

They arrived at their destination in no time and Blaine drove the small car behind the building and parked in the shadow of a large dumpster that completely masked the vehicle. The two spies hopped out and sprinted for the back door. They pressed their backs into the cold brick wall and waited, their breaths coming out in a white fog that contrasted with blackness of the night. The only light was from the moon and the headlights of the passing cars reflecting off of metal things. The sounds of taxis and cars whizzing by dominated any other noise as they listened hard for anything suspicious.

Blaine nodded to Jeff who reached for the doorknob slowly. It was locked. It didn't hurt to try right? Jeff and Blaine pulled off their gloves and put on the "hand lotion". After thoroughly rubbing it in, they did the same to the bottom of their boots and pressed their palms to the rough wall. Step by step, they climbed the wall like Spiderman silently and quickly. The higher they went, the harder it became to hold onto the wall with no grip and essentially defy gravity. Barney's had three floors, and by the second one they were both grunting quietly with effort. Web strings would have come in handy right about now.

Muscles straining, they kept moving, climbing higher and higher. Their faces were red and the sweat was starting to form. The wind bit at their exposed skin and whipped at their faces, contrasting with the heat from their efforts and effectively giving them what felt like pneumonia. Still, they pushed on and never looked down. They weren't scared per se... more like they didn't want to see how little progress they'd made and be disappointed that they had so much more to go.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the two men reached the top and dragged themselves over onto the roof, panting slightly. They took a minute to rest, but no longer. This was one of those rare missions that didn't have a time limit besides maybe before the crack of dawn. They had time. After their short break, they crawled army-style towards a skylight in the center of the ceiling. Jeff peeked in. Deserted. He signaled Blaine who backed up. He removed a few of the marbles he had packed and placed them around the window then backed away. He took another marble from his pocket and made sure Jeff was far enough away before he lightly rolled the ball towards another one he had strategically placed. The sphere moved ever so slowly, its speed decreasing as it got closer and closer to another of its kind. Then, it hit with a small "ding".

Each marble exploded on the spot, creating a small fire that would only be about an inch in height before being blown away by the wind. Blaine and Jeff slid their fingers beneath the now detached frame and lifted the glass over to the side and set it down. Jeff looked through the big rectangular hole they had created and estimated that the drop was about thirty feet. Blaine took out his grappling hook pen and shot it at the floor of the roof right next to his foot. He yanked on it to make sure it would hold. Satisfied, he jumped through the hole and gripped the cord with all his might, stopping halfway down. He let himself breathe and slowly lowered his body to the ground until he could stand firmly on the floor. Jeff followed with his own pen. They retracted them both and set to work.

Blaine went straight for the cash register and looked through all the receipts (after putting on his finger-print-less gloves back on) for Rachel's name signed on the credit card line, as that was the only way to find a receipt with her name on it. Eventually, he found one. October twenty seventh, bingo. He removed the receipt and held its place in the pile with his other hand. He whistled quietly and Jeff was there in a second. He nodded and used Blaine's pocket watch to take a picture of it. Blaine put the receipt back and the two tip-toed over to the section of the store where the receipt told them she'd bought a light blue long sleeve shirt in size extra small.

They made their way to the first floor, where the shirts were located, effectively avoiding all security cameras but walking directly underneath them and blending with the shadows. Eventually, they found the rack of shirts full of the ones Rachel had bought and they began searching. They stray hairs everywhere, fingerprints everywhere, footprints everywhere, it was hard to specifically find anything that could be qualified as Rachel.

_Rachel's feet were size five and she would only try one sizes from extra small to small. That excludes every shirt size medium and up and every shoe size besides five. Her hair was up when her body was found, so it's not as likely to find a hair here as it were if she had her hair down. She was also wearing heels when her body was found, so her footprint should be rather odd._ Blaine thought, using his pocket watch as a night vision scanner to search for footprints from Rachel's exact shoe.

_Aha! Found it!_ He used sign language to tell Jeff to follow him and they followed Rachel's (and probably Kurt's too) footprints until they reached the front door. They two spies shared a look and then retraced their steps the way they had come. The ran back up the stairs and used their pens to climb through the roof yet again, so that they could seal the skylight closed as if they had never come. Blaine collected the remnants of the marbles as Jeff replaced the window perfectly. There was no trace that they had ever been there. They slipped on some more hand lotion and climbed down the wall to run around and regroup at the front entrance, where they followed Rachel's steps while remaining hidden in the shadows. Eventually, Kurt's footsteps separated from hers and went in the direction of their apartment and although they were very faint, both sets were still visible thanks to the special pocket watch.

Blaine and Jeff followed the footsteps all the way to Finn's house. Square one. Damn. Jeff poked Blaine in the arm and pointed to another pair of footsteps besides Rachel's. Blaine signed that it was probably Finn's, but Jeff signed back, but is it? Of course, they had to make sure. Blaine slowly stepped out of the shadows as he would blend better with the darkness (what? Jeff's bleach blonde hair would stand out!) and examine the footprints.

Size twelve, men's. Adidas running shoes, very heavy imprint, estimated weight: one hundred and ninety nine pounds. Yup, definitely Finn. Blaine signed to Jeff that it was just Finn, and the boy mouthed a curse word. Blaine rolled his eyes. Time to start over.

**A/N. Yup! I'm a Neff/Niff shipper! :P For those who don't particularily like Neff, there isn't much emphasis on it in this story. I hadn't originally planned for it to be this way, but I found it needed to happen even if it seems like they have split personality disorder XP Which... Jeff kinda does... i guess... kinda... ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! I honestly don't like this chapter. It's REALLY short, and I think it was too rushed. i've got lots of plans for this, but it's the every day thing I'm having trouble writing. I'm also doing NaNoWriMo, which is writing a 50 000 word story in a month... so fanfiction may take a back seat to that because I'm not feeling very inspired with how many reviews this story has gotten *cough* one *cough*. So... yeah. I'll try to keep up the weekly updates... but I'm really sorry if I can't. Anywas, hope you enjoy! :D**

Chapter 9

The next morning, Kurt woke up to a pounding headache. What the hell? I didn't even have the time to drink anything. Groaning, the countertenor lifted the sheets off of him and slowly sat up. On his nightstand was a glass of water he did not remember putting there. Finn. Kurt smiled through the slight pain and sipped it as he began to re watch his memories of the night before. Blaine had acted extremely suspiciously, beating up Sebastian, throwing him out of the elevator before it exploded... had it ever really sunk in that his life was in danger? The only time his heart rate had increased was when he was in the car, and he was perfectly safe there... perfectly safe with Blaine. Was he?

He certainly felt safe with him, but he was with Blaine when the elevator crashed, and Blaine was at the party with Sebastian and everyone else, and Blaine came into his life the night Rachel died. Gah! Too much thinking for someone whose head hurts.

Kurt got up and trudged into the kitchen, plopping himself down on the stool by the island counter. Finn was nowhere to be seen. Probably at work, Kurt mused, reaching blindly for the coffee machine. He grit his teeth through the harsh sound of grinding coffee beans and waited for his mocha.

Just another normal day. Wait a sec... oh no. Kurt had agreed to let Blaine be his bodyguard. His freaking bodyguard! Maybe he was drunk last night? But he'd only allowed the younger boy to follow him places... oh grilled cheesus, what was Blaine doing to him? It was like, all logic just flew out the window when the tenor was around. But how was he going to follow him? It's not like he would just sit outside Kurt's apartment until he came out... right? Cause that would be downright creepy.

"Blaine?" He called, just to make sure. No answer. Phew. Just another normal day.

GLEE!

Blaine thought he'd follow Finn for the day, like he'd told Kurt he might do jokingly. It was a good idea. Finn knew Rachel better than anyone, and his house was the scene of the crime. The spy woke up bright and early and then zoomed straight for McDonald's. In the car, parked outside the entrance, Blaine took out the newest gadget David had sent and pressed the big red button, smirking. The object scanned him and then when it was done, he looked like someone completely different. I love technology.

Blaine opened the door of the car and stepped out as a tall blonde who looked to be about twenty-five. So this is what it feels like to be tall... he thought as he pushed and held open the door for a pregnant woman and her two children. She shot him a grateful smile and he nodded at her politely.

Inside, it smelled like hamburgers and fries and grease. He sniffed and looked around, searching for clues. Finn wasn't behind the counter, which was odd seeing as he didn't think Finn would be trusted in the kitchen. Perhaps he was working the drive through window. Just as well, he didn't want to be discovered, even if it was impossible. He walked into the bathroom and slipped on some sunglasses once he was in one of the stalls.

They were X-ray glasses.

He looked left, the kitchen. He looked right, the outside. He looked behind him, oh hey! It's Finn! Blaine quickly memorized the floor plan of the building and pocketed his glasses. He pressed the red button on the gadget previous and he was suddenly wearing a McDonald's uniform. He smiled. Perfect.

Blaine exited the bathroom and made his way into the kitchen, making sure to keep his visor down so as not to draw attention to himself. The sounds of grease dripping onto stoves and machines working restlessly filled his ears as the smells of unhealthy food became stronger the farther back he went. He passed Finn at the first drive through window and kept going until he reached the break room, where he reached the surveillance room.

He locked the door behind him and searched through the surveillance tapes, er- rather, surveillance DVDs. No one uses tapes anymore. Blahblahblahblahblah aha! October twenty seventh. He plucked the DVD from the rack and replaced it with one that looked exactly the same, only without the handwritten label. He placed it in the DVD player and and pressed play, sitting back in the office chair to watch.

On the (thankfully coloured) screen, people came and went extremely slowly. He fast-forwarded until it was over, and he sighed. He took out the DVD for October twenty sixth and played it. At about four o'clock when he recognized the small form of Rachel Berry skipping up to the counter. He played it at normal speed and watched at rapt attention as Rachel leaned over the counter to get in the cashier's face as she demanded something. Unfortunately there was no sound, and she was facing away from him, so he couldn't read her lips. The cashier nodded frantically and looked a little scared as he rushed out back.

Why was he scared? Did Rachel threaten him? Stupid no sound...

Finn came out from the kitchen a few seconds later looking confused. He pulled her aside and they started to bicker from the looks of it. Rachel's back was still to the camera but Finn was facing it directly, so he could read his lips easily enough.

_"Why are you here?"_

_"Rachel, I'm working!"_

_"I told you I couldn't come, I am trying to make a living for us!"_

_"I am behind in paying my rent."_

_"What don't you understand? I. Can't. Come. I know it's your big debut and how important this is to you but my boss said that if I miss one more shift that I'm fired. I can't get fired! If I get fired then I lose my house. What's more important to you?_" Finn threw his arms in the air in an exasperated manner.

_"Well I think not! I'm not stupid! I know how to budget my money... sort of."_ Rachel huffed and stomped her foot, then she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Finn ran a hand through his hair and accidentally knocked off his visor. He picked it up and went back inside.

Blaine sped through the rest of the day, but there was no sign of Rachel. Finn left work at approximately eight o'clock and then there was nothing.

So... Rachel and Finn had had a fight. Had they made up before her death? He'd have to speak to Finn again. According to the surveillance cameras, the lanky boy's break was in... he checked his pocket watch: one hour. Great. Now what? What could he do for the next hour? He decided to keep searching through the tapes. There was another one placed outside the restaurant, so he could watch which direction Rachel went after fighting with Finn.

Fast forward... blah blah blah... McDonald's had a busy day, yada yada yada... there we go. Rachel enters... Rachel exits, fuming. He could see her face this time, and she was visibly angry. She called a cab and the car took off in the opposite direction of her apartment. Hmm... where'd she go?

He had to find out. He whipped his cell phone out and dialed Nick's number.

"Duval. State your name and business."

"Anderson, co-worker." They always had to be careful with what they said, their phones could be bugged - you could never be too careful.

"What's wrong?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Can I?"

"... get over here as fast as you can, then we'll talk."

"I can't. I have unfinished business here that won't be done for at least another hour. I need to speak to you now." There was a lengthy pause.

"Alright, it's safe. What's up?"

"I need you to hack into the security system of every building south of the McDonald's on thirty fourth street and use facial recognition to find Rachel on the twenty sixth of October two thousand and twelve at approximately four o'five onward."

"Got it."

"The video feed?"

"The understanding of your 'favor'."

Blaine sighed. "Get on it immediately and call me back when you find it. If I don't answer, proceed to Plan E."

"Blaine, what are you doing? Anything that danger-" Nick was cut off when Blaine hung up on him. Maybe they weren't on as friendly terms as he originally thought. Habits are hard to break.

The doorknob to the surveillance room jiggled, the clinking of keys ringing in the silence. Blaine panicked and pocketed his phone, replacing the DVDs and leaped behind the door just as it was thrown open and whacked him in the face. He bit back from a groan of pain and went to attack the person from behind when he realized it was Finn. He paused. He couldn't hurt Finn... why couldn't he hurt Finn? He was just a person he'd been very careful not to get too attached to... crap. He'd gotten attached in some way or form. Well, he'd pretty much broken every spy rule ever made.

_Quick! Hide!_

He slammed the door behind him as he ran out of there. He ran until he was back in his car and dove for the back seat. He swore mentally and- wait, he was in disguise. Even if he had been discovered, no one would know who he was.

...

Wow. He felt stupid.

GLEE!

One hour later, it was Finn's break. Blaine took off his disguise and met him outside the door.

"Blaine? What-?" Blaine signaled for him to shut up and follow him to his car. Finn followed hesitantly and got in. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Finn, I think there's something you forgot to tell me when I interviewed you the other day." He glared at the frankenteen, who gulped nervously.

"Uh... what?"

"I've been doing some investigating lately, and apparently, you and Rachel had a fight the day before her death."

Finn winced. "Uh... yeah. I don't see how that's revelant though."

"Relevant."

"Right."

"Well, was the last time you saw her, your fight." Finn had tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall - they did anyway. He nodded grimly, staring at his hands.

"So, the most plausible reason of her going to your house the day of her big night would most likely be to make up... no?"

"I... I guess. That didn't really occur to me because... well, she's... selfish, kind of. And I didn't expect her to leave her opening night just to make up with me because she could do it at any time."

"But does it sound like something she'd do?"

"... if... she wanted to convince me to come, yeah."

"Hmm."

"Look man, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it honestly didn't come to mind!"

Blaine sighed. "It's fine Finn, just... next time, tell me absolutely everything. In excruciating detail. Got it?" Finn nodded frantically and escaped the tension filled car for his own truck.

His cell phone rang at that moment. Its tune? Don't Stop Believing. He answered it.

"Anderson. Go."

"Found her."

"Where?"

"A stage. She sang, she cried, she left. End of story. According to surveillance, she went home."

"Damn it."


End file.
